Date: Fri, 7 Apr 2006 19:23:44 GMT
From: "anonymous4371@juno.com"
Subject: THE EMPIRE'S MOST PROFITABLE CROP (Historical)
THE EMPIRE'S MOST PROFITABLE CROP
by Bill Smith
[Reactions to a story are always interesting to a writer. Please forward
your comments and suggestions to Bill Smith at anonymous4371@juno.com.
They will be much appreciated.]
BACKGROUND: In the last decade of the 3rd century, Emperor Diocletian's
long rule had brought peace and prosperity to the widespread Roman Empire.
Wars of expansion had long since reached an end, border wars were
controllable and generally effective, and the currency was stable
reflecting the general economic prosperity. Diocletian's long rule had
brought long overdue administrative reform, an equally overdue rewriting of
Roman law that proved to be both prudent and effective, and a squelching of
troublesome religious extremists that questioned the very basis of Roman
greatness, the tiny so-called "Christus" cult the worse among them whose
most tiresome trait was their absurd intolerance of practically every one
else in the Empire.
In this period of stability, great social migration took place as new
citizens throughout the Empire moved to locations better suited to their
economic advantage. Since the Romans usually offered citizen rights to
conquered peoples over a period of time, these new citizens tended to be of
all colors and ethnic backgrounds, making Rome of Diocletian's time one of
the world's first truly multicultural societies and the tensions and vigor
inherent in such societies often powered an entrepreneurship that ensured a
dynamic growth in new businesses, construction, and trade.
Slavery, the economic backbone of the Empire in that it guaranteed a huge
supply of cheap labor for every need, was thriving despite the drying up of
the once endless supply of new slaves the wars of conquest had guaranteed
for over 200 years. Consequently, the price of slaves steadily rose as the
supply decreased. But, at a certain point, the costs of breeding and
raising slaves from birth was found to be about the same as new captives
were bringing in at current market prices. Furthermore, bred slaves
required far less training time since captives were often recalcitrant to
take up their new duties and resented being made to serve their conquerors
in a capacity little different than any other piece of owned livestock
whereas slaves from birth knew nothing of freedom or a different status in
life, viewing themselves as little more than the livestock their masters
perceived them to be. By the end of the 3rd century, the breeding farms
were supplying sufficient new slaves to the markets to meet Roman needs at
a reasonable price, with little further training needed in most cases, and,
compared to the old captured slaves, with a much more accepting and
cooperative attitude toward their ordained fate in life. Captive slaves by
this time were viewed as a novelty and were generally the result of piracy,
kidnaping, or products of the border wars that still took place now and
then.
As a result of this Empire wide transition from captured slaves to bred
slaves, whole industries emerged to handle the supply process - everything
from experts hired to select the best possible "broods" and "studs" from
the existing slave stock to make sure new slave stock steadily improved in
disease resistance, sturdy musculature, pleasant appealing appearance, and
sexual attributes; slave nurseries where the products of the breeding farms
were raised to marketable maturity at the lowest possible costs; methods of
insuring high fertility among the slave stock; and, most important,
planning market trends of the next generation when the products would be
marketed, i.e., colors, physique sizes, and genders preferred, etc. , to
determine selectivity factors in who would be bred and when. The Empire
now was filled with thousands and thousands of breeding farms, often
housing hundreds of thousands of new properties awaiting their eventual
sales to a vast market of peoples from every known nation in the world,
every religious belief, and every color. Racial and religious prejudices
(except for the pesky Christian sect) were practically unknown, although,
of course, certain people preferred their human properties to fulfill
certain whims, e.g., black litter bearers were very popular for a short
period of time as were German gladiators for a longer period, while
preferences for Greek tutors and Dacian and Syrian boys for their beds
lasted for generations.
Due to the success of these vast breeding operations in the Diocletian
reign, most Roman citizens enjoyed a lifestyle free of menial labor of any
type and even had the privilege of fulfilling even the most bizarre sexual
fantasies without social censure - all at a most reasonable costs since the
price of slaves remained fairly low and certainly affordable. Many
citizens, indeed about one out of every 10, now made their living through
the sale, trade, breeding, training, and management of the vast slave
population. Slaves, as before in both the Republic and the Empire, were
the commodity that made the economic engine run so effectively. Rome now
was a polyglot of races and foreign religions (which created an "identity
crisis" of what exactly a Roman was); an empire with an ever growing
disparity between the rich (the slaveholders) and the poor (who found their
livelihood eliminated by slaves); a society with few limits (what we now
view as hedonistic promiscuity and open unbridled lust was considered a
normal part of human nature then); and an almost universal belief that the
Empire would last forever.
This story involves that one-tenth of the free population that now made
their living off of this uniquely defined class of human livestock, i.e.,
slaves.
THE BIRTHDAY GIFT:
It all started when my good friend Lucius gave me a birthday present
that wasn't easy to ignore: a young, eager, really black boy with a
magnificent, almost hairless muscular physique, one of the most interesting
faces you've ever seen, pectorals that were all puffy and begged to be
kneaded, a penis and set of balls that were more than adequate but
certainly not freakish like some studs up for sale, behavior that was
nothing short of being cocky to other slaves yet totally subservient,
almost obsequious, to his betters, and an attitude that conveyed always
that he was totally aware of why and for purpose an owner would buy him. He
was only 18 when I got him, fully trained and, unsurprisingly given his
looks and age, had been owned by both a master and mistress before he was
given to me, both of whom found him most satisfactory both in and out of
bed according to the reports, although both of them had bought the boy
primarily for the sexual pleasures he could bring them in various forms.
The gifted slave was yet another product of one of the local breeding
farms. Consequently, having been a slave since birth, he had no concept of
what being "free" meant, no aspirations of being anything but what he was,
and his only real goal was to find a good master or mistress who would take
good care of him in exchange for unbridled and uncomplaining use of his
body for whatever his owner wanted. In that respect, he wasn't much
different from millions and millions of other contemporary slaves who had
been "bred to purpose," with the exception this one, in my opinion, had
turned out rather spectacularly.
When Lucius gave him to me, totally nude with only a red birthday sash
tied around his freshly oiled torso, I was absolutely overwhelmed. First
off, I didn't own any slaves of my own back then (although I had certainly
used plenty of my friend's slaves whenever I could arrange it). Second,
this slave had obviously been carefully selected around what turned me on
the most: black hides, muscular physiques, handsome faces, huge equipment,
and boys eager to please their masters. Third, a slave of this quality,
young and equipped as he was, would cost real money - certainly more than
the typical birthday gift to a good friend. Fourth, I had no idea how I
would pay for his maintenance (food and caging mainly along with body oil,
enema kits, butt plugs, tit rings, a nice collar, genital banding, a strong
leash, and whatever else would prove essential over the long haul.)
MY FRIEND LUCIUS:
I had no idea Lucius had the kind of money such a purchase would
represent although he had, of course, a series of very expensive slaves of
his own ever since I had known him. But he sold them off periodically,
usually at a good profit, so I don't think it cost him much to enjoy them
while he had them under his tow. In fact, when I first met Lucius, I
thought he was a small- scale slave dealer specializing in highly select
studs since he never seemed to keep one very long, no matter how appealing
the slave was. But Lucius always claimed his interest wasn't commercial -
he just liked a change of pace from time to time. If he made money in
alleviating his boredom, so much the better. He was so casual about it, he
convinced me he just liked to trade his boys in frequently and he certainly
never had any of the characteristics of the typical slave dealer: always
touting their goods, showing off their stock on hand, and always trying to
ferret out yet another cheap buy or another sale of stock with a jacked up
price.
But Lucius assured me he couldn't resist buying this slave for me the
minute he saw him in the holding pens. He said the slave was perfect in
view of what he knew about what I liked in slave boys and the price was
right. "It would have been criminal to pass this one up, thinking of you
at home all by yourself, probably stoking yourself dreaming about a boy
just like this," he had laughed in an explanation of his extravagance gift.
Lucius was an interesting fellow and the longer I knew him, the more
interesting he became. Born into wealth, he never let money stand between
him and exactly what he wanted.
LUCIUS' SLAVES:
His current slave boy was an excellent example. That slave, now
around 24, was about as good looking as males get in my opinion. Tobacco
brown, he was well muscled, beautifully proportioned, and nicely equipped
sexually. Furthermore, he had about one of the most handsome faces I had
ever seen, brutally masculine but yet softened with feminine overtones.
Born in North Africa with Arab/black bloodlines to free parents, the slave
had been kidnaped as a teenager and whisked to a slave training facility in
Messina for a year of necessarily brutal and intensive training before he
was totally broken and fully accepting of his slavery. During that time,
he had been taught in all ways to please a master of mistress, no matter
how bizarre their wishes, and the realization he would be nothing but
somebody's property from now until his death. Now that he was Lucius'
property far from his native land, he seemed perfectly content and was
always totally compliance with any requests from his owner, including being
loaned out to me on several occasions where he was used long and hard (with
never a murmur of complaint from him no matter how hard I fucked him or how
long I had his throat muscles wrapped around my organ as he
enthusiastically sucked away with hollowed cheeks). When I had asked him
once what he thought about being loaned out to just anybody, he politely
responded in a foreign slave's heavily-accented newly-learned Latin, "It is
a privilege to serve the needs of my master's friends," without a trace of
resentment or even embarrassment at being given out as a whore at an
owner's whim. I could only conclude his slave training had been thorough
and permanent.
Lucius had, as I mentioned, a long string of slaves serving his fancy
over the years I had known him. The first one I remember was a handsome
brown boy enslaved by the courts of his home city at the age of 18 on a
extortion charge. Seems the lad had threatened his local merchants with
arson if they didn't pay him "fire insurance" and, over time, they got
tired of it and called his number. He burnt down a business, was promptly
arrested, and within days found himself legally a slave for life, the usual
sentence for troublesome people likely to repeat a crime who didn't have
influential family or friends to intervene for them. The courts shipped
him off to the government-run training facilities for those the courts had
newly enslaved. After months and months of cut rations, sleep deprivation,
the constant pain from whips, lashes, and hot irons, and chronically being
fucked by big-dicked trainers who enjoyed hearing their trainees squeal and
howl from having their sore butts and throats once again invaded by a huge
prick, he emerged on the auction block a docile, obedient boy with a newly
developed musculature fully trained to provide sexual pleasure who brought
a very nice profit to the state. Lucius happened to be at that auction and
took advantage of an opportunity to buy such a handsome, well-trained piece
of relatively fresh meat for his bed. What he got was a 6'4" young man
with a beautiful smooth hide, a handsome face highlighted by beautiful
teeth and unusual blue eyes contrasting with his brown skin, a well-muscled
physique, and prodigious sexual organs quickly aroused to full erection
with only the slightest stimulation. Gone by this time was any modesty
about his constant nakedness, any shame in displaying his sexual organs
boldly, any hesitation in doing any conceivable sexual act demanded in the
most public of settings, or any resentment at being a branded collared
slave for sale to the highest bidder.
Lucius said his first slave was totally satisfactory in every way
despite his "free" origins and he only sold him when an admirer of his
property offered him twice what he had paid for him. Never one to turn
down a decent profit, he convinced himself it was time to try out a white
slave and sold him that very day. Lucius said when his slave was
displaying himself to the prospective buyer and the terms of his sales
price was being discussed as he posed with his muscled arms gripping the
back of his head with his legs spread wide in the classic 'display'
position, tears were streaming down the slave's face to his amazement.
When he asked the slave why he was "being so emotional about being sold"
the slave had replied "I love being your slave, master, and don't want to
leave, unless," he caught himself quickly, "that's what the master thinks
best." When assured his sale was exactly what his master thought best, the
slave got control of himself and stopped the silly display and paid more
attention to thrusting his organs and pecs out to display even better like
he had been taught back in his basic slave training.
His next slave was a light-skinned Thracian who he kept in constant
restraint for a variety of reasons. Mainly, he liked the looks of it.
Secondly, the slave, despite a long training period, had never completely
broken to his slavery and he still dared to show his resentment at times,
especially if a whip or lash wasn't in his master's hand. This resentment
mainly flared up in dark looks or barely audible murmurs when he was being
fucked forcefully up his ass or down his throat. He just never seemed, no
matter how many beatings or use of the hot irons, to totally accept these
aspects of his slavery, although he was fucked quite often by any number of
people, not just his owner Lucius over the years. Lucius admitted that
barely hidden resentment sort of added to the thrill of fucking him and
there was something special in forcing sex on a very masculine man who
could do nothing but accept what was happening to him, being a slave now.
In fact, Lucius said he fucked that slave harder and more frequently than
any slave he had had before or after, probably because he loved that look
of resentment he usually got when he ordered the slave to bend over with
this cheeks spread wide for an ass fucking or onto his knees with his mouth
wide open for a good throat fucking.
When Lucius showed me a sketch he had had made of this slave at one
time, I voiced my option that I didn't think he was very good looking - I
viewed his body as scrawny for a proper slave - and noted his sexual organs
were barely even average. Nevertheless, I appreciated that Lucius kept him
totally body shaved at all times to show off what he did have and to denote
his slave status, and bothered to ring and band him as a reminder to the
slave he was now just property.
Lucius's response to my observations was a good hearty laugh.
"First, I agree with you on everything you've said. But, until you've
fucked a slave who really resents it but knows he has to cooperate anyway,
you don't know what you've missed. I tell you he was one of the best
slaves I ever had when it came to delivering real solid enjoyment in bed -
even, I admit, when I had to give him a touch of the whip now and then to
remind him of his purpose."
Lucius had eventually sold this slave off to a dealer when he was
offered 180 percent of what he had paid for him - another sizable profit!
The third slave Lucius owned was entirely different and one Lucius
admitted he bought just for the fun of it. The slave was a real primitive
black straight off of a breeding farm who knew no life outside of total
slavery. Treated from birth as livestock, that's pretty much the way he
acted according to Lucius.
"He was so docile and obedient I sometimes thought I had bought a lamb
rather than a human. He had no sense of owning anything, even his own
body, and viewed masters as necessary for his very existence. As such, he
was eager to be bought and would do anything, anything at all, I wanted.
Even when I sold him out by the hour to service anyone who could only
afford an hour of a slave's use, he viewed that as part of a slave's life
and never complained in any way. I kept him collared outside my villa's
entrance, usually, with a rent sign beside him, and, on most days I had
him, he earned more in a week than I had originally paid for him. Talk
about a good investment! I was stupid to ever sell him. If I had kept
that black piece of flesh, I'll still be making a mint out of him although
I imagine his ass would be mighty stretched by now," he laughed, "and his
throat would have been chronically sore."
"Does he turn you on?" Lucius asked with a smirk as he showed me the
drawing he had had made of that slave.
"Yes, I admit he does. He looks primitive, as you say, and remarkably
fresh considering the use you put him to. Yes, I think I would have bought
him for an hour or so each day if he were chained like that outside the
entrance to your villa. Did the slave attract regulars?"
"Indeed! Some women rented him almost every single day and some men
were even more regular. After a while, he never stayed chained like that
outside my entrance more than a few minutes every day. He was already
scheduled all the rest of the time. I had my steward keep his reservations
on a chalk board in his office so he could keep it all straight. You know
what? That slave never complained once at all the use he was getting -
even fucking the old hags that would rent him out. He just seemed to
accept all of that as his due in life."
"Well, why did you ever sell him then, Lucius?" I asked.
"A whore house offered me ten times what I had paid for him after all
the use I put him through. I knew he would wear out pretty fast at the
rate I had him going, so I sold him the moment I got the offer. I heard
later they got their money's worth, though. He lasted for a good eight
years in that whore house getting fucked around the clock or fucking the
old crones who had to buy a buck's use if they were ever going to get any
pleasure in this world. After that, he was worn out and couldn't get it up
anymore, so they sold him off as a kitchen slave for next to nothing. I
still see him now and then. He's the main cook for one of my friends and
serves the meals himself - still stark naked and still looking about the
same except he can't get a hard-on anymore no matter how much you play with
him when he's serving you. But he's a damn good cook at least!"
"Has his penis and balls shrunk since he's not used anymore? I've
always heard they shrink on you if they aren't used."
"A foolish conjecture in my opinion based on that slave. The last
time I saw him he was just as big in those areas as he ever was, flaccid of
course, but still very big. Besides, look at all the slaves who are never
allowed any sexual outlets at all for control purposes. Every time you
look at them, they're all swollen rock hard and dripping year after year -
just the opposite of what you're talking about. I never seen any of them
getting any smaller no matter how long they've been kept from relieving
themselves."
Lucius's fourth slave had been purchased privately from a good friend
who had only owned the property a short time but needed to raise some cash
quick. He was a young white boy who had a pretty face and a nice body but
certainly wasn't heavily endowed like most of Lucius' slaves. Lucius'
friend had purchased him solely for his bed but it turned out the slave had
considerable musical talent with both the flute and harp in addition to a
lovely tenor voice. The slave had been kidnaped in Greece when he 14 by
slavers who saw a decent profit in view of his cute looks. Up until then,
he was the son of fairly wealthy parents who had lavished musical training
on him as well as spoiled him with every material thing imaginable,
including a slave boy of his own, a half-Arab half-black boy purchased for
him at the local market in Corith, since that famous city, like Rome,
offers most everything in its huge slave markets.
After years of searching for their disappeared son, the parents had
given up, little knowing their son had been sold long ago in Rome's slave
market after being trained thoroughly for his life as a slave in an African
training facility which dealt with kidnaped goods the pirates delivered
regularly.
Although the slave could remember his good life in Greece, including
having a slave of his own back then, he knew that pampered life was behind
him now and, after being branded and all the whips, starvation, and daily
fuckings commonplace in his training program, he settled into his own
slavery remarkably fast and certainly showed no signs of resentment or
rebellion by the time Lucius bought him. Lucius always thought that was
because he had had a pleasure slave of his own at one time and understood
the expectations masters had of slaves purchased to give them bodily
satisfactions. Lucius speculated that his new slave's own half-breed
property back in Greece had probably been well trained for bed duty and had
set a high standard of what pleasure slaves were supposed to do in an
appropriate fashion. Therefore, when Lucius's new slave had become a slave
himself, he already understood what the expectations would be from a
master.
In fact, Lucius had questioned his new acquisition extensively on what
the half-breed Arab slave was like that his parents had bought for him and
found out that slave had had two owners prior to his being purchased as a
birthday gift. Those two previous owners, both male, had used him heavily
as a pleasure slave so he knew every trick in the book of how to please a
male long before being given to his new 14-year-old Greek master. In fact,
the slave had serviced both of the Greek's parents as well as the
14-year-old son so he was in constant use one way or another. When Lucius
asked his new purchase what he had thought of having his own slave being
used by his mother and father as well, of course, as himself, the slave had
shrugged and said such arrangements were common in Greek households that
could afford attractive slaves. Indeed, he casually asked Lucius when he
was going to be shared with Lucius's parents, brothers, sisters, etc.
Eventually, this fourth slave went the way of the others - sold to a new
owner who paid many times more than he had cost Lucius and thus, like the
other, turned into a huge profit-maker.
Lucius was now on his fifth slave, the mulatto beauty I had enjoyed on
many an occasion who would probably be traded in before long, knowing
Lucius's knack for being bored quickly. I could only surmise what he would
have on a leash next.
LUCIUS' VAST KNOWLEDGE OF SLAVERY:
Over the last year or so, Lucius had taken an interest in how slaves
were bred, captured, trained, and processed. Every Roman province had the
need for reliable cheap labor, a useful position for social misfits, and a
steady source of revenue from slave sales. Consequently, slavery was now
universal throughout the known world.
Lucius's interests had taken him into the wilds of the African bush
where slave hunting was routine, to some of the slave training facilities
located in Northern Africa, the Trans-Alpine and Gaul, as well as some of
Rome's own breeding and sales facilities.
Lucius could regale you with stories of his adventures traveling all
over on what he called "leisurely excursions." One quickly learned from
him that there seemed to be an endless supply of slaves from sources all
over the world, that slaves were being bred and captured in a variety of
colors, builds, and physiques to satisfy every taste, that slaves could be
well trained in a reasonably short time almost universally no matter where
they were located due to the fact training procedures were well established
throughout the Roman world to be effective and long lasting, and that the
price of slaves would probably go down over time, rather than up, due to
the huge outputs from the breeding farms now located all over the
Empire. In fact, Lucius predicted kidnaped or captured slaves would become
a novelty within a decade or two, that novelty adding to their price over
the more commonplace bred slave. But he also predicted most buyers in the
future would purchase bred slaves who had totally predictable and highly
selected physical characteristics, training since birth, and no knowledge
or even a concept of freedom of action or thought. I never tired of
listening to his tales of exploring all aspects of slavery, including the
sides of it most purchasers never saw - the original procedure, the
training, and the final processing before being placed on the block for
sale.
Lucius had traveled extensively throughout all provinces of the Empire
to slave processing centers. There he witnessed many a example of the
thorough training slaves get before being marketed.
First, they are exercised rigorously to obtain a good muscular
physique that most attracts current buyers, be they male or female. Thus,
most slaves put on the block are well built with good muscular definition
and with their bodies totally depilitated below their eyebrows either
through plucking or daily shavings. They are also taught to display
themselves well, often being fitted with a genital ring to facilitate this
goal, harnessed if it is thought to add to the slave's attractiveness or is
necessary to display the slave's sex organs well, almost always collared
permanently, and frequently ringed.
Those destined for the pleasure slave market are taught the necessary
skills, whether it be taking it up the ass, sucking down a big one, being
milked, or swallowing a big load. They usually use each other in this
training so they get well acclimated to both passive and active roles that
will be demanded of them by future owners. Slaves were taught to cooperate
fully in being milked for their output, displaying their holes properly to
attract buyers interested in a good fuck slave, demonstrating their sucking
skills on a potential purchaser while still chained up in the auction
centers, demonstrating their interest in relishing their master's cum, and
showing how they can swallow a huge load with no hesitation.
As Lucius pointed out, most slaves were kept nude their whole life all
over the world, weather allowing, no matter what use they were put to and
almost all slaves were heavily collared with either big leather or heavy
metal collars that not only reminded them constantly of their slave status
but told the world at large they were someone's property.
Lucius was particularly interested in the marketing of stud slaves
utilized by North African breeding operations. A good number of his
excursions had been to Mauritania, Nubia, Egypt and other African provinces
who specialized in the production of black slaves for a huge variety of
purposes. Consequently, the studs fathering the current crops were as
varied as the slaves they produced, ranging from brutal looking jet blacks
to sleek browns with a lot of mixed blood in them. Most, however, were a
medium brown, well built, and heavy hung. They sold cheap enough, often
being sold in lots of three or four by locals who specialized in breeding
stock, and were usually shown off to prospective buyers nude, totally
shaven, and fully restrained so there was no fear of them running away or
getting lost. Most potential studs were well used to being displayed fully
erect since they understood why and for what they were being sold. Being
put to stud frequently didn't bother most of them. They had been brought
up to expect nothing else and had seen slave studs in action since they
could first remember anything. It was just a normal function of a slave's
life if their masters so decided and was certainly an easier life than the
mines or construction work no matter how many times they were put to the
female stock selected to be impregnated for their owner's profit.
Some, of course were bought for other purposes than just baby-making.
Many a mistress sported a special stud at her disposal as did many a master
who preferred well hung, well trained, compliance bed partners who knew
exactly why they had been bought and exactly what would keep their new
mistress or master happy in use of their body. Some, naturally, did both -
regularly scheduled to stud for new slave production, they also ended up
far from the rutting sheds in the luxurious beds of their owners. They
enjoyed the chance to be a pampered pet of a mistress in exchange for
whatever their female owner wanted to satisfy her and it was fun to be
receiving a good fucking from a master occasionally rather than always
having to be the one delivering a full load. Either way, mistress or
master, their soft, sweet smelling bodies were very different from the
sweaty muscled wenches they were usually paired with. Such selected studs
had to learn new skills, however, to stay in favor. These usually involved
considerable oral skills as well as learning to fuck without discharging so
owners could be pleasured for hours and hours with no interruption by
debilitating orgasms.
This was very different from the stud's normal duties where he was
expected to shoot a full load into the breeding wench on her hands and
knees beneath him in just a matter of minutes and then having the overseer
squeeze his balls to make sure he had deposited a full load. Some slaves
with magnificent bodies, extraordinarily handsome features, and
exceptionally large equipment were bought just for the pleasure they could
provide their owners and rarely, if ever, were actually put to breeding.
But even these slaves, when their freshness was a bit tarnished and the
novelty was gone, frequently found themselves resold to a genuine breeder.
It was a shock for such slaves to suddenly find themselves in the stark
drabness of a rutting shed instead of the luxurious boudoirs they had grown
used to. But it was almost a relief to just have to fuck swiftly on
command with a clear goal of making a baby instead of the endless games of
teasing and pleasure seeking demanded in their previous life as a sexual
plaything.
Furthermore, being a "real" stud was prestigious among their slave
brethren and, even though they still fucked on demand, it was considerably
less humiliating than being a mistress' or master's sex toy. Also, there
was something more basic about fucking to make babies than just fucking to
titillate a mistress or master.
In either case, they were frequently shown off, especially with their
organs fully swollen to full erection. The breeders enjoyed showing off
their studs almost as much as the mistresses and masters who bought them as
objects of pleasure. At least, once a stud at a breeding farm generally
meant you wouldn't be sold off as long as you kept knocking up the wenches
on schedule. Being owned as a pleasure slave ran the risk of your owner
getting bored of you after a short while and, before you knew it, you were
sold off to yet another master or mistress interested in exploring your
body. Some studs at the breeding farms had been there for years and were
only sold when they were pretty well worn out as a stud. Then, they were
sold off for the labor left in their body but with the knowledge their
contributions were stocking the auctions for years to come.
Lucius could go on and on about the intricacies of the slave trade,
but eventually he got to the questions I poised based on my experiences
with his "gift" of a few weeks ago - the beautiful black slave that had
been "used" in about all the ways a man's body could be used to extract
sensual pleasure. My gift slave was often exhausted from all the use he
was put to, but had never failed in responding to my commands, no matter
how sore his asshole or chafed his tits by now.
"Isn't it about time you started making some money in the slave
business?" Lucius asked me rather bluntly. "The real money is going to be
in breeding slaves if you've got the capital it takes to get into it.
Nobody wants the bother of breaking captured slaves anymore and the
exorbitant amount of time and money it takes to train a formerly free
slave. Bred slaves have two huge advantages that are apparent to any
slaveholder these days: (1) they're being bred to better and better
specifications - better looking, better physiques, better sex drives,
better disease resistance, better compliance, better sexual equipment - you
name it, selectively breeding the best in class is paying off and it's
obvious to everyone; and (2) they're trained from birth to be what they are
- a property whose purpose is to please their owner - a bred slave has no
concept of free will or not being owned by someone - that's so alien to
them they can't even imagine such a thing."
"Well, I know they always bring a premium at the marketplace," I
agreed.
"The longer good sensible selective breeding goes on as well as it has
over the past two generations or so, you're going to see some real beauties
on the block consistently - not just once in a while. I see a future where
ugly, runty, poorly filled out slaves who can barely get it up will be so
rare they'll be a novelty. The norm will be similar to that birthday
present I just gave you."
"Well, at least I have a good stud on hand to start with," I replied,
waving to my birthday gift kneeling by my side with his eyes lowered to the
floor while I ran one hand through his fine, silky hair while my other hand
played with a swollen tit, as yet unringed.
"God, Aelius, you're going to have to show more sense than that if you
are going to make it in the breeding business," Lucius replied sharply.
"This black boy is fine for YOUR bed, but it doesn't have what it takes to
make a top quality breeder."
"But, Lucius, I can't imagine anything better than this slave you gave
me as a birthday gift. He's got everything: a nice smooth hide with an
even color all over, well-defined muscles everywhere, a really handsome
face, a great physique, nicely shaped organs that display themselves well,
and he's obviously extremely well trained as a slave. What more could
anyone ask for?" I responded quickly as I moved both hands down to his
prick and started stroking it until he quickly had a full erection. As I
did this, my gift slave spread his knees wide and thrust his pelvis out so
I had easy access to his sexual organs. "What's wrong with breeding him?"
"Aelius, look at what you're stroking as we speak," Lucius retorted.
"Don't you see the problem?"
"No," I looked perplexed as my slave was now fully aroused and was now
his usual 8"x5" dimensions and was even beginning to drip a little.
"If his prick was two or three inches longer and a lot bigger around,
all things being equal, would his price be higher or lower in today's
market?" Lucius queried.
"Higher, I suppose. It seems the bigger the better no matter what they
are being bought for anymore," I responded, still not understanding where
this conversation was going.
"You think big pricks are just random on slaves or do their sires have
something to do with it?" Lucius pushed.
I thought for a moment and tried to think of where I had seen fathers
and mature sons side by side for comparison. After some reflection, I
responded, "Well, I guess like father, like son - at least from the cases
where I've actually seem them displayed next to each other. I do know,
Lucius, that features are passed on from one generation to another with
other animals, so I would think the same would be true of our human
animals."
"Anything you breed, you want to make sure you get top prices for
them, don't you?" Lucius asked.
"Well, sure, Lucius. I'd be stupid not do."
"Well, why would you breed this boy here when you could be breeding
pricks at least 10+ inches and a good six or seven inches around. You
yourself just said the bigger pricks bring the best prices, all other
things being equal. This boy put to the wenches will most likely produce
offspring just like him - easy to look at, compliant, beautiful physique,
but with 8" pricks. With a really good stud, you could get all of that
plus a hell of a bigger prick to display up on the auction block."
Finally, I understood where Lucius was going with this and, using the
black slave's prick as an indication of my new understanding, I
demonstrated to him with my fingers what a much bigger prick would be like
on the slave.
"Just like this slave's, but with a few inches added here and there,"
I laughed as I roughly stroked the slave until he was bucking in my hand.
"Finally, Aelius, you're beginning to understand what I'm getting at,"
Lucius chuckled. "Breeding is a serious business and you have to take all
aspects of what you're doing into account if you're going to make any
serious money in the enterprise."
"Other than the prick size, anything else wrong with this slave as a
breeder," I laughed as I continued to stroke the slave, now biting his lip
to keep from cumming in my hand without my permission.
"Yes, Aelius. I've give you a hint. If we bleached his hide a
beautiful ivory, would he bring more or less on the auction block, taking
into account current fashion trends?"
I thought long and hard on this one. I personally preferred the jet
black hide of my birthday gift and knew that was one reason Aelius had
given the slave to me for my birthday. As long as I could remember, I found
black hide just a little sexier and more of a turn-on for some unknown
reason. But I knew others had their own tastes in slaves' coloration -
everything from skin tone to eye color to hair color to hair texture to
even how much body hair a slave had. As I thought of what slaves were
bringing at the local auctions, I realized light skinned slaves with light
color eyes and light color hair often brought top dollar IF they were well
muscled, strikingly handsome in the face, had near perfect physiques, and
were oversized below the belt.
"Well, I would guess making him ivory would up his value a bit in an
open market, but not for me, you understand. But, for the buyer at large,
I know boys a light tan or dark ivory are bringing top dollar nowadays,
especially those with blue or green eyes, smooth unblemished hides, and
light colored hair. Those just chalky white don't bring much, let alone
those with some blemishes on their hide - look at albinos if you want to
see giveaway prices - but a nicely tanned white or a light half-breed seems
to be bringing in the highest bids from what I've seen."
"And - my point?" Lucius queried.
"I'd be better off with a stud as pretty as this one I'm playing with
right now but who was much lighter skinned and heavier hung if I want to
start breeding stock that will bring the highest market prices."
"An excellent answer, Aelius," Lucius laughed. "This slave is fine as
your personal pleasure slave - probably the best one in the world for you.
You love his color, I know, you adore his good looks - who wouldn't - and
you think his prick is just fine in that you mainly will be fucking his ass
anyway and just playing with his prick like you are right now. He's a
perfect pleasure slave for you or I wouldn't have bought him for you,
Aelius. But a breeder - no way! Not if you're going into breeding to make
money and why else would you bother outside of making a whole new
generation of wonderful male concubines for yourself."
The black slave under discussion was so caught up in trying to control
his pending ejaculation he could barely assimilate the news it was unlikely
he would be allowed to deposit his seed in any wench in the foreseeable
future - indeed, if it was like now, he wouldn't even be able to discharge
unless under direct order of his master.
"Master, master," the slave risked a verbal utterance without being
asked a direct question. "Master, I don't think I can hold it much longer,
master," the slave gasped as he again struggled mightily to control his
pending orgasm.
"Aelius, look at the slave - he's sweating buckets with you stroking
him like that. I'm surprised he's held it as long as he has," Lucius
laughed. "He's a well trained buck - I'll give him credit for that, at
least. Why not let him shoot off? You know I never bothered to taste his
output before I gave him to you. Usually I do, but I was in a hurry back
at the sales barn and I needed to get you a gift before the day was up.
I'd like to see what his balls have stored up, don't you?"
"Well, I haven't tasted him either since I've only had him, what, a
good hour now?" I laughed. "Slave, shoot off for your master in this
platter," I said handing the black slave a small platter from the table
beside me. Master Lucius and I would like to sample your cream."
"Yes, master, thank you, master," the sweating, heaving slave said as
he quickly grabbed the bronze platter and began shooting load after load of
hot cum onto the dish with huge gasps and bodily jerks as his prick
quivered while his balls emptied. "Here's a nice load of hot cream for
you, master, just like you wanted," he gasped, careful to make sure every
drop of his output was contained on the platter. When emptied, he fell to
his knees and lifted with both hands the full platter as a slave's offering
to his master.
Both Lucius and I dipped our fingers in the thick, gooey output and
savored the large dollops in our mouths before swallowing.
"Um - not bad," both of said in unison as first Lucius, then myself,
lifted the saucer to our lips and took a substantial amount each to swallow
down.
"Delicious," Lucius announced as I nodded in agreement. "Could I
finish it off? It's the freshest I've tasted in quite a while. Thick,
tasty, but not overwhelming. Just about right, don't you think, Aelius?"
"Go ahead and finish it off, Lucius," I offered. "Thanks to you, I
can help myself anytime I want from now on," I laughed.
"I bet you have this first thing in the morning from now on," Lucius
chuckled, "along with dessert, late night snacks, and God knows when
else. I bet that poor slave's not going to have to worry about never being
able to unload like so many slave nowadays. Let's just hope he appreciates
having such a thoughtful master. What about it slave?" Lucius added,
nudging the kneeling slave with his foot. "You appreciate a master who
lets you unload now and then?"
"Yes, Master Lucius, yes sir. This slave is most thankful to be
allowed to shoot off for his master whenever his master wants," the slave
replied tactfully.
"Well, I would think so, slave," I looked the slave straight in the
eye. "Not too many slaves are as lucky at being allowed to empty their
balls now and then for a lenient master."
"No, Master Aelius, this slave is most fortunate to have such a good
master," the slave responded as he bowed his head as deep as his thick
collar allowed and gazed at the floor in a proper slave attitude.
"Well, I won't be breeding you it seems, slave," I interjected, "but I
admit I will probably be milking you now and then, so you won't have to
worry about your balls busting, slave."
"Thank you, master," the black slave said quietly, his eyes fixed to
the ground, not sure if he should respond or not.
"Since we've both tasted him now, don't you think it's time you gave
your new gift a name?" Lucius suggested with a tinkle in his eye, "or were
you just going to call him 'slave'? Not too original, you know."
"Well, at this point I only have one slave, so I think I'll just keep
calling him that until I get another one. I like 'slave' for a name,
Lucius. It reminds him of exactly what he is at all times."
"As I said, not too original, and I think that thick collar of his
reminds him of what he is, let alone his constant nakedness, but 'slave' it
is, I guess for now." Lucius chuckled. Looking at the slave down on the
floor, he added, "At least I tried, slave."
"Yes, master," the slave replied, but 'slave' is a good name if that
is what my master wants."
"He's well trained - that's for sure," Lucius laughed loudly at the
slave's careful response. "And damn tactful as well. If he takes a fuck
as well as he does the rest of it, you're in for some mighty good times
with your new property, Aelius," Lucius predicted.
"I hope so, Lucius. Isn't that the whole point of a good birthday
present," I responded as I roughly grabbed one of the slave's tits and felt
it swiftly swell in my hand.
"That's why I gave him to you, Aelius. To have some fun in bed -
but.... " he chuckled, "buy a fresh stud if you're going to get into
breeding."
THE BREEDING MARKET POTENTIAL:
I followed my friend Lucius's advice. He was good enough to go with
me when we visited one of the largest slave markets in the region. I had
decided to start my entry into the profitable slave breeding business by
buying a prime buck and about 12 wenches with proven birthing success.
Lucius had advised me a good stud would cost around 2000 to 3000 denarius
if I bought one with lots of years left in him and with all the best
characteristics for breeding and each of the wenches would cost around 1000
to 1200 denarius if they had only been successfully bred once or twice
before I bought them (one denaruius was the typical day's pay for a free
laborer but there were no expenses in maintaining him like with a slave).
It would be costly to get into the "business," a little less than 20,000
denarius including what it would cost to feed and stable them over the
years, but, as Lucius pointed out, in no more than 18 years I should have
at least my first crop of 12 "products" for sale which would bring in as
much as I paid minimum plus an inventory of approximately 216 being readied
for the market not counting twins (12 x 18 years). At current prices,
those 228 (counting the 12 currently up for sale) would be worth well over
410,400 denarius and close to 500,000 denarius if at least half of the
products were male who brought almost double when auctioned off. A 25-fold
increase in 18 years isn't bad by any standards and certainly beat hands
down any other investment I might make. I could see why Lucius parted with
his latest pleasure slaves so readily when the right buyer came along.
Furthermore, Lucius pointed out, slaves kept up with inflation despite the
ever increasing supply of them from all the breeding operations. This
seeming contradiction was explained by the fact that demand grew even
faster than supply so investment in human livestock seemed secure over the
years. Even now, the lower middle class were beginning to buy old, ugly
and usually worn out slaves to do the most menial work in their homes and
to simply enjoy the pride they had in owning another human being. Those
with more money generally had several slaves in their homes while the upper
class sported whole herds of them. It was clear that slaves were a "growth
industry."
As the market opened for the day, Lucius and I were one of the first
to start checking out what was available. Unbeknownst to them, the stud
they would end up purchasing was lost in a reverie of recollections as his
naked body was chained into a prominent display position and he was once
again stroked into a full erection to attract a potential buyer.
THE STUD'S REVIEW: (AS TOLD BY THE SLAVE UP FOR SALE THAT DAY)
"Shall we plug him?" one of my handlers asked.
"It would help keep him hard," the handler's cohort responded.
Without further discussion, I felt a large black leather dildo
unceremoniously rammed up my ass while I grimaced from the pain of the
intrusion and then jerked as it hit my inner organ (prostate).
"Bingo," the handler said as he watched my prick quiver and then ooze
a bit of pre-cum as the inner organ stimulation had its desired effect.
The handler twisted the huge dildo around a bit until I was leaking
copiously and my prick was as hard and swollen as it ever gets. "There,
that should make sure he shows well for a while," the handler said as he
twisted the cleverly- designed dildo until it was fixed in position and
could not be extracted by any movements on my part. "A salesman or
customer can still pump it a little to spruce the slave up if he's not
showing well, but my guess is he won't need that the way he's leaking cum
already."
I hadn't been allowed to have any relief in over a week now. My hands
were usually shackled behind my back, at night I was tied to the corners of
my bunk by all fours face up, and every time I tried to rub myself up
against the cage bars or another nearby slave, a handler was always there
with a whip long before I could shoot off. When you're constantly
stimulated by your handlers and not allowed to drain your balls ever, the
end result is a constant hard-on, a chronic urge to get you own or
anybody's hands on your prick, and a mental obsession with getting off
anyway you can - even to the really degrading acts like rubbing yourself
against another slave or even rubbing your stiff prick against the bars of
your cage when you think the handlers aren't watching you. So big, black
dildo up my butt or not, it didn't take a stimulated inner organ to make me
hard and dripping - it seemed that was my normal state of affairs anymore
in this place which literally reeked of cum, sweat, frustration, and need
at all times. To think some slaves had to be given aphrodisiacs to get
hard! I was hard all the time.
It wasn't always that way with me, though. Back before I was a slave,
I jerked off at least once a day if I wasn't fucking some slut on a regular
basis. Like most guys, if I drained my balls at least two or three times a
week, I wasn't hard all the time and I certainly wasn't thinking about sex
all the time like I was since I found myself enslaved. It wasn't just me,
though. All of the other slaves being shackled up for display were no
different from me. Back in the holding pens, there wasn't a one that
wasn't hard almost all the time and most were dripping so hard their thighs
always had some dried up cum visible down the front. That flaky dried cum
matched the cum on the back of our thighs where the cum oozing out of our
assholes left its mark. You see, you can only absorb so much cum up your
rectum, certainly no more than one good fucking's worth. After that, the
excess pumped into you eventually leaks out your hole and down the back of
your thighs. Since we were all fucked a minimum of several times a day
since the day we first had been enslaved as part of our standard slave
training, feeling wet on the back of your thighs was something you just got
used to - sort of like having a sore ass all the time from being fucked so
much or a sore jaw from having to swallow the trainer's big pricks over and
over. Overstuffed balls, chafed pricks, a sore asshole, body muscles that
usually hurt from all the forced exercise to make sure our physiques were
all they could be, and jaws that ached from being stretched frequently were
all just part and parcel of being a slave it seemed. At least, that was my
experience so far in the six months since I had been sentenced and then
lodged in one of the slave training centers located in every district in
every province in the Empire by this time.
My "crime" had been my inability to pay my debts. Since I turned 16,
I had worked at a bakery with a decent boss clerking and cleaning up. But
a big chain of bakeries using only slave labor forced our small store out
of business only months after they arrived in town in that they
consistently offered lower prices. I and two other free men like myself
got let go while the owner-boss just retired early, giving in to the ways
of the corporate world now and having the means to do so at his age. Try
as I might, I couldn't find another job anywhere. I tried everything:
applying to the company that had forced the bakery out of business (they
used only slave labor now); trying to get into any of the Legions (the
waiting list for enrollment was over three years long as more and more free
men couldn't find employment elsewhere); trying to get into a municipal or
provincial job on the roads (they too used only slave labor now, drawn from
their prison population); trying to get hired by a local manufacturer of
wagons and litters (all their labor needs were contracted out to a local
slave hire company); and, finally in desperation when I really got hungry
and my clothes were rags, selling myself to some locals looking for sexual
satisfaction without the bother or expense of buying a slave. Even though
I "sold" well to some local single ladies who seemed desperate enough to
have most anyone give them some loving and to a few men too poor to buy a
slave for their enjoyment, I couldn't get enough business to buy enough
food or clothes, let alone pay rent to anyone, to sustain myself. Besides,
doing that was a real gamble - at that level you were wide open to disease.
One night, two local merchants "rented" me to suck them off. When I
had finished with them, instead of paying me as they had promised, they
trickily hauled me into the local magistrates office where they knew
numerous complaints about my failure to pay my debts had been lodged. I
was arrested on the spot for "indebtedness" - the standard charge for
destitute persons like myself unable to pay their creditors. The very next
morning, the magistrate asked me to prove how I was going to pay my debts.
When I couldn't, he said: "I'm sick of seeing scum like you luring good
citizens into hiring you for your services when you haven't even met the
basic responsibility of any citizen - paying your debts. It's only a
matter of time anyway until you'll be hitting up the city's relief agencies
for food and shelter. Those merchants you sucked off last night have
slaves readily available for just that right here in this office," pointing
to two old naked slaves sweeping the floors nearby who looked so worn out
they could hardly stand up, "and the state is not obligated to take care of
you unless you give something back, like lifetime bondage."
"I'll go anything to get any job so I can pay my debts," I cried out
in desperation. "I want to take care of myself and not be a burden to
society," I pleaded. "I've even tried to join the Legions."
"And escape your creditors? Too late for that boy," the judge replied
calmly. "You had your chance and you blew it. Slavery is designed to
answer all the needs of irresponsible young men like yourself."
"But, your honor," I pleaded. "Give me another chance."
"Once you're properly trained, you'll fit right into the slave
population. An owner is exactly what you need from now on - someone who
will be responsible for you, give you the guidance you need, and where you
can be of service to them in exchange for giving you food and shelter.
Enough idle talk. You are sentenced to lifetime chattel slavery with
immediate shipment to the Empire's nearest slave training facilities where,
upon successful completion of the training, you will be placed up for sale,
the proceeds from your purchase price to go to your long patient creditors
as well as pay for your upkeep and training. Any family involved here?"
"My father died last year and my mother was enslaved herself for
penury three months ago. I have no brothers or sisters, your honor."
"Good! That's makes it simple. Bailiff, strip this slave and then
properly collar and manacle him before transporting him to the training
facilities so he doesn't get any wild thoughts about running. Next case!"
The bailiff was a huge burly black man, a slave himself, who, with an
aide, almost effortlessly hacked off my clothes with a huge knife he had
fastened to his belt around his otherwise naked body for just such an
occasion, placed a heavy collar around my neck that he produced from a
nearby shelf, and jammed it shut with a resounding thunk. It didn't fit
well, but I couldn't get it off and it served well enough for him to fasten
a leash to, which he also had fastened to his belt.
The magistrate enjoyed this little ceremony and, upon seeing my
unusually large prick (even flaccid) now prominently displayed, he let out
a low whistle.
"You're one lucky slave. With tackle like that, you'll probably not
end up down in some mine or out on some road gang. More likely, you'll end
up as a sex slave if you take to your training properly. Pay attention to
your trainers, boy, and you could have an easy life for a slave."
I almost puked as he said this and had to struggle to keep the vomit
down my throat. I couldn't imagine ending up as a naked slave in one of the
notorious slave brothels located in even the smallest villages now or even
as some wanton mistress' bed buck as was rapidly becoming fashionable now -
even to the point of being paraded around town stark naked on a leash to
show the world what she had bought for her pleasure. With tears flowing
down my cheeks, I thought of a scene I had seen only last week involving
slaves: a middle aged man, obviously wealthy, was leading three naked
slaves behind him - an exceptionally handsome young man from the remote
island of Eire leashed by a huge tit ring installed for just that purpose;
another good looking black Nubian boy, about 18 years old, leashed by a
ring around his very large genitals; and a tall, well- built blonde Nordic
man from the most northern provinces of the Empire, about 23 or so, leashed
by a ring through his nose. All three slaves were very muscular, extremely
handsome, were hairless below their necks, and all were extraordinarily
endowed. They looked totally embarrassed, ashamed, and humiliated.
According to magistrate in charge of my case,, these were the "lucky
ones." All these "fortunate" slaves were showing hard, all were dripping,
and all looked, well - almost exactly like me in their youthfulness, fresh
good looks, and especially their huge hard pricks. The visual recollection
turned my tears into sobs of despair as I was roughly dragged out of the
courtroom by my newly installed collar.
I ended up downstairs right under the magistrate's chambers where
there were a whole series of individual "holding" cells, each one sized so
you couldn't lay down completely, couldn't stand up, and could only rest
with your legs pulled up to your chest or in a kneeling position with your
privates fully exposed. Each cell has a wide mesh floor that allowed your
wastes to drop down into a flushable water tray below, a full length door
on one side that allowed the handlers to stuff you into the cage without
too much trouble, and bars on all sides wide enough to allow anyone to
handle any part of your body at any time. The room itself was damp and
cold so you were never warm and frequently shivered, sweating was
non-existent except from fear, and touching a body in an adjacent cage was
seen as a source of warmth rather than an intrusion into one's body space.
An hour or two after being caged (and in which time five more new
slaves had joined us from the magistrate's office above), a new set of two
slaves arrived. They were hugely muscular, tightly collared, and had not
one blade of hair on their entire body. Even their eyebrows had been
removed giving them an other-worldly look. As weird as their heads
appeared totally bald, their genitals had been shaved as smooth as any
babies. Seeing their full manhood displayed on a baby smooth body seemed
strange and made their genitals appear obscenely big. The only relief from
total nakedness was their tightly-fitted tall slave collars that forced
their heads into a constant upright position and the thick rings fitted
through the septum of their noses, making them look almost animalistic but
totally controlled.
Their job, it turned out, was to make us look something like them.
One by one, we were dragged out of our confining cages, fastened to a
"grooming table" and had a permanent collar installed that was tall, heavy,
and tight (which forced my head upright just like theirs in that the collar
was 4" tall at least), shaved from my neck down so not a hair was left on
my body including the hair on my scrotum and up my ass crack, had my head
hair cut with a standard "slave cut" which allowed no more than 1" of hair
at any place on the top of my head, had my face shaved, my eye lashes
curled with a strange instrument heated in hot coals, and my teeth
polished.
Next, I was flipped over a saw horse located directly over an open
mesh drain and fastened again whereupon I was given a series of three
flushings which completely scoured my insides of any residual shit until I
was sparkling clean inside and then felt a clean-smelling animal fat being
shoved up my asshole. I had never had an flushing before and the
experience was totally unnerving, if not overwhelming. It wasn't just
having the cold metal nozzle forced up your anal hole (that just felt very
weird); it was the feeling of being pumped full of water until you thought
you would bust open that left me exhausted and defeated. Somehow, I felt
totally violated by this invasion up my asshole. Oh! If only I had known
what was ahead of me in that area I would have welcomed it like a spring
shower. When I felt the scented grease being worked up my butt, my worse
fears came to the forefront. Why would they be doing this if they weren't
going to ...... I couldn't even think about it without fear overwhelming
me. Yet deep inside I knew being fucked was a slave's fate. An inner
voice told me it wasn't IF, but WHEN if I was really a slave now.
"Is he to be ringed now or later?" I heard one of the slaves ask
another.
"Later," was the reply, which caused even greater consternation.
Ringed where? Through my tits, around my genitals, my ear lobes, my nose?
Which would hurt most? How long would it take to heal? Do you feel the
rings the rest of your life or do you adjust to the point you don't feel
them at all? Of course, I had seen slaves around town ringed most anywhere
you could put a ring through human flesh but I had never actually talked to
a slave to see how it felt or how painful it was to install. To me,
somehow, the septum ring in the nose seemed to be the most degrading in
that you looked like an animal after it was done, but having a tight band
around your genitals made you look freakish - after all, after that was
done, your manhood stuck out in an unnatural display and you looked like
you were inviting people to handle you once you were fitted with that
device. And tit rings , especially when you saw slaves leashed by them,
would probably be about as painful as it gets when you consider how tender
and sensitive most men's tits are, even without constantly being stimulated
by some damn rings through them.
I was then moved over to a bench face down with a wide well-padded
leather top that seemed to have an adjustable height mechanism and shackle
restraints for both my ankles and both wrists located at the bottom of the
four legs. When fastened in position by my arms and legs, the two handlers
left and almost immediately two new men appeared, both free men judging by
their lack of a slave collar or other signs of ownership despite the fact
both were totally nude.
At first I didn't recognize the two of them since I hadn't seen them
nude before. But then I was overwhelmed with relief. The two young men
had worked with me at the bakery before it had closed and had been good
friends of mine the whole time we had worked together. After the bakery
closed, we had lost contact. I had just assumed they were desperately
looking for new employment like myself.
On that score, I was right.
"Ortho? Claudius? Is that really you?" I asked, beside myself with
joy at seeing the familiar faces.
"Yes, it's us, all right, boy, but it's Master Ortho and Master
Claudius to you now, slave," one of the men barked back coldly. "You're a
slave now and need to learn to show proper respect to free men."
I was speechless.
Unlike you, slave," Ortho said, "we quickly got work at this slave
training facility as you can see and are valued members of society."
"Yes," Claudius added. "You could have worked here yourself if you
had any sense and a grain of ambition. They're always looking for freemen
with big dicks, and," he snickered, "you sure as hell qualify that way. All
new slaves have to be broken in as even the smallest child knows, and the
state only uses freemen as trainers in that slaves would go too easy on
other slaves to led to effective, lifelong training."
"As you know yourself," Ortho continued, "long before you were
enslaved, but especially now that your ass is chucked full of grease, every
new slave, no matter how old or ugly, gets fucked over and over as part of
their basic slave training. Reminds them of their new status and tells
them their body isn't theirs anymore. For most new slaves, we just open
them up good over the first month or so and let it go at that. But for the
good looking ones that might be marketed as pleasure slaves, we go a lot
further than that. We teach them not just to take a big dick up their
butt, but what to do with it once it's all the way up them. You're in that
category, slaveboy!" Ortho laughed. "Hell, with your big dick, you could
have been a trainer yourself."
"You mean your job is fucking new slaves?" I asked, incredulous.
A whip slashed across my butt causing me to strain against my shackles
as I screamed in pain and surprise.
"Master Ortho and Master Claudius, stupid. And slaves don't ask
questions - they answer them!" Claudius said as he again slashed at my butt
rather viciously. "I can see you're going to need some serious voice
training if they don't clip your vocal chords first. But since you're so
damn curious, the answer is yes. We fuck every new slave over and over
until their hole is nice and open and they have learned how to take a big
one with no problem at all - well, at least, they know enough not to scream
and holler anymore when they're being fucked."
"It's a pretty good job once you learn not to shoot off when you're
fucking. You've got to make sure you keep the stamina to last all day,"
Ortho said rather proudly.
"Yeah," Claudius added. "We're scheduled for 15 solid fuckings a day.
That requires you don't shoot off, you make sure the slaves are greased
properly before you start fucking them, and, I admit, you have to build up
your muscles to peak condition if you're going to be humping all day long."
"That's why we're so muscular, slave," Ortho posed briefly. "Takes a
real man to fuck all day long, especially with all the squealing and
struggling and screaming going on with the brand new ones. Most of the new
slaves are virgins and virgins are the worst ones for a lot of screaming
and crying at first. You a virgin, slave?"
"No sir, Master Ortho," I remembered to respond like they expected to
avoid another slash of the whip. "I fucked my girl friend at least twice a
week before .... all this," my voice trailed off.
"You stupid asshole, slave," Ortho responded even though he knew full
well my pre-slave name but obviously wasn't going to use it now that I was
a slave. "We're not talking about studding some wench. We're talking
about taking it up the ass."
"Oh," was all I could respond.
"Now, slave, are you a virgin of not?" Ortho barked at me again as he
ran his whip over my butt as a reminder.
"Yes, Master Ortho. I'm a virgin," I choked out since I was starting
to cry.
"Well, not for long," 'Master' Claudius said as he cranked the
adjustable table up until my asshole was at the exact height of his long
and very thick erect prick. He positioned his dick at my entrance and begin
to push forward a bit as his knees forced my legs apart and opened my hole
a bit. "I know I'm not hung as heavy as you, slave, but its still 10
inches of solid meat and it's just as thick as yours, so you're going to
feel it, slaveboy."
"More than 'feel it'," Ortho added. "Claudius' fucks are memorable
according to every slave around here that's in training. A lot of them
bleed a little initially, but nothing to worry about - just opening you up
properly. Every slave expects that at the bare minimum."
With that, Claudius rammed his entire length into me with one huge
lunge. My eyes bulged out as white hot pain coursed throughout my body and
I found myself screaming even though I had vowed I wasn't going to give
them the satisfaction of knowing they were getting to me. My body
stiffened as much as my restraints would allow, I broke out in a heavy
sweat, and my screaming and gasping went on, well beyond my control. When
Claudius started pumping hard into me, I felt myself getting hard and
dripping despite the horrible pain.
"You hit pay dirt with this one," Ortho announced as he reached down
below the edge of the bench and grasped my swollen prick and balls. "This
slave likes it. Look, he's dripping already and you've barely started!
This slave's damn lucky. He's got one of those sensitive organs inside him
so he's going to like getting fucked regularly once he gets opened up
properly and used to it."
I continued screaming in pain but slowly discovered I could alleviate
the pain a bit if I relaxed as best I could and used my ass muscles to push
back a little as if I were taking a shit. As Claudius pumped away, I
eventually could stop screaming and just lay there gasping and panting as
he tried to drill into me deeper and deeper. I felt a warm substance
dripping down my leg and knew I was bleeding since Claudius had given no
signs of shooting his load into me.
"He's showing a little red," Ortho commented referring to my bleeding.
"Nothing serious. About what you expect with a virgin the first time
around."
"This boy's damn tight. I'll say that for him," Claudius panted out.
"You about ready to take over? I'm going to shoot if I keep this up much
longer."
"Anytime, my friend," Ortho answered. "But make him clean you off as
I'm going in. He's got to learn just taking it up the butt isn't all
that's involved in servicing his betters. Cleaning them up properly
afterwards goes with the territory."
With that, Claudius pulled out abruptly which led to another round of
incredible pain and as Ortho pushed in with his prick only slightly smaller
than my own, Claudius moved to the front of the bench and jerked my head up
until my mouth was directly in front of his huge swollen shaft now coated
with warm animal grease, traces of my blood, and his own pungent pre-cum.
"Lick that clean, slave, balls and all, and then swallow the whole
thing for a final rinse," Claudius instructed as he forced my jaws open
with his thumbs and held them there in case I got rebellious. "A slave
always cleans his user's equipment so it's squeaky clean afterwards."
I couldn't reply of course in that my mouth was forced open, I was
choking on what I was licking off his prick, and the pain of Ortho's full
entry almost paralyzed me in pain.
The two former work colleagues from the bakery traded off in fucking
me for the next two hours until they took a rest, had a bite to eat, and
moved onto another new slave they had tied to a 'fucking bench' next to me.
Apparently, their job was to fuck off and on all day long with one new
slave after another. I was kept chained in place the entire time they broke
in the slave placed next to me. But that slave passed out after about 40
minutes, so a third slave was brought in and chained onto yet another
'fucking bench." Then a fourth and fifth slave were fucked by the duo
until the work day was over. At that point, a huge leather butt plug was
placed in all of us being 'broken in' and we were released from the
'fucking benches' and placed in a cage large enough to hold the five of us
where some tasteless cold mush made with coarse grain and vegetables for
food (a common feed for slaves in that it was cheap, but filling and
nutritious) was spooned out into a wooden feeding box attached to one side
of the cage near the floor and some fresh water to wash it down was
available in a metal trough attached right next to it. None of us were
interested in eating anything due to our pain but we were thirsty and
crawled one by one over to the trough to slurp up all we could, difficult
since we had to be on our hands and knees to reach it, in the fashion of
any other animal we all realized. None of us could even move, let alone
walk, without considerable pain emanating from our ass. Three of us,
myself included, had shot off while being fucked at one point or another -
a residual of our 'sensitive' inner organs according to our two trainers.
Both Master Ortho and Master Claudius had assured all of us that in a
few days the soreness would all go away even though we would be fucked
again over and over during that time and that any trickles of blood would
dry up - both were just normal responses to a good "breaking-in" session.
"Within a couple of weeks, if we fuck you at least once or twice a
day, you're going to find all the soreness is gone, all the bleeding stops
for good, and you have hardly any pain at all no matter how big the prick
being rammed up your ass. Oh, you'll feel it all right, but you can take
it without too much trouble. That's why we're going to keep that big dildo
jammed up your butt right in place for the next few weeks all the time
we're not actually fucking you or cleaning you out and greasing you up you
again. In other words, slaves, your butt hole is going to be stretched
around the clock until you can take a good fucking like a well-trained
slave should."
I had to admit the leather plug well up inside me didn't hurt too much
as long as I didn't move. But the minute I squirmed even a little, let
alone tried to change position, the huge plug made its presence felt with a
new barrage of pain inside me.
THE STUD'S REVIEW CONTINUES: (AS TOLD BY THE SLAVE UP FOR SALE THAT DAY)
The exact same routine went on for the next three weeks. All of the
other slaves caged with me were treated exactly the same and suffered at
the same level as far as I could tell. By the end of that period, we were
again eating anything available - most often the tasteless slave mush we
were forced to eat and drink animal-like with our hands behind us from the
feeding box and water trough on our hands and knees. We had long ago lost
any modesty or shame at being nude all the time, of showing frequent
hard-ons right in front of each other, of eating like animals, or of
helping each other find a comfortable position to lie down in the cage
despite the huge dildos jammed up us. At night, we often shared our
stories when the guards weren't around and we could at least whisper now
and then without fear of having our vocal chords clipped.
Their backgrounds were no different than mine. A frantic search for
employment once they had lost their jobs or, in desperation, begging for
food or offering themselves for sale. Once brought to the attention of the
magistrates for one minor crime or another, they, like myself, found
themselves sentenced to lifelong slavery and shortly found themselves in
the initial stages of their basic slave training by the likes of Claudius
and Ortho. Strangely, we never referred to the fact we were being raped on
a regular basis or that we were being 'stretched' to better meet the
expectations of some future owner. No one thought it ironic that my former
workmates, both a little younger than any of us, were now slave trainers
charged with making sure we offered up a good fuck whenever wanted.
Instead, we wondered who we would be sold to and what our new owners would
expect out of us. Being fucked was a given at this point, since we all
realized that was a given for slaves throughout the Empire.
Then, after exactly 21 days, Ortho and Claudius told us they were
through with us and they were moving on to another batch of new slaves.
The butt plugs were pulled out of us so we wouldn't "get too loose" and all
five of us were moved off to another part of the training facility.
Already, we were thinking and acting like slaves in that the thought we
shouldn't be treated like this never crossed our minds. Nor did we ever
think that the trainers didn't have the right to do this to other people.
Of course they did. It was their job to properly train us, after all!
In all my time together with Ortho and Claudius, they never referred
to our times working together back at the bakery, never called me by my
actual name, and never did anything but coldly and roughly treat me just as
they treated the other slaves being trained by them. To them, I was
nothing but a piece of meat now who had to be trained to the state's
standards or they risked getting fired, no matter how well equipped they
were for their job.
As soon as I arrived at the new section of the training facility, the
first thing I heard was out of the mouths of two slave 'handlers.'
"Do we brand him now?" was the question from the new handlers, now
seemingly totally immune to the pain and suffering they imposed on others
enslaved just like themselves.
I quickly glanced around as best I could within my restraints to see
if they were branded themselves. Sure enough, they were. I could see a
big "S" burnt into one slave's butt from my highly restrained position and
a similar brand burnt into the left pectoral of the other slave. I assumed
both of them now possessed the permanent ownership marks of their slavery
on both their butts and pecs so you could see it front or back. The big
"S" seemed to be standard for slaves throughout the Empire. It stood for
"servus," the Latin word for slave, and had been used for centuries now on
slaves of every race, nationality, ethnic group, and religion. Why would
these two escape such a common marking? And, with a shudder, why would I
now that I was apparently a full-fledged slave thanks to the provincial
magistrate, still no doubt busily handing down new sentences of
enslavement.
"Yes," came the reply without emotion.. "I've already got the brand
scrapped clean from the last slave and put it in the brazier so it should
be hot enough by now."
"I'll strap him down for the butt burning first since he's already in
position. It's good he's completely cleaned out from this morning's
flushing. Otherwise, we'd we standing in a pile of shit and piss when we
mark him."
"Yo, but strap him down tight, so I can get a clean scar. You know
both of us probably wouldn't live through the beating we'd get if we didn't
get a clean burn on this one."
With that, the one slave took three more straps and tightly bound me
to a rugged old saw horse so I couldn't move no matter what. The other
slave took the hot brand, now glowing a dull
red, and, without hesitation, pressed it into the fleshy part of my right
butt and held it there while he counted to three.
The room was instantly filled with a sharp sizzle of burning flesh,
the acrid smell of meat being grilled, the smoke of sizzling skin being
burnt to a crisp, and, finally, the most horrendous scream I have ever
heard. I didn't recognize it as coming from a human, let alone from
myself. As the most overwhelming pain I had ever experienced hit my brain
and exploded in agony, I passed out.
The next thing I knew, I was vaguely aware of being flipped over on
the saw horse and positioned with a number of straps so I couldn't possibly
move the upper part of my body. My pectorals bulged out from the unnatural
angle my body had been forced into. Again, without comment, the red-hot
iron hit my left pec, the stench of burning flesh filled the room, the
smoke of fried hide filled my nostrils, and as the pain again became
unbelievable, I passed out.
"You never forget being branded," the one slave said to the other as
he studied the deep burn in his victim's chest.
"No, you never do," the other slave agreed. "But you sure got a nice
clean burn on that boy's pec. I just hope it's as good on his butt."
"It is. Binding them so tight they can't move no matter how much they
try to jerk around is the secret to a good marking. I dare say we've
escaped being beat to death once again."
"May the gods help us when we blotch up a new slave with this iron,"
the first slave said. "It will probably be the last thing we remember in
this world."
"Probably," the second slave agreed. "You know, you said you never
forget being branded. That's so true. I can remember it today as if it
were yesterday. Is it the pain? The fact you know you're marked for life
as a property? Or is it you know for sure you're a slave now and always
will be?"
"All three, probably. For me, though, it drove home once and for all
I was just a piece of property now and was marked so everyone would know
it, especially me, and it would always be that way from that point on."
"Yeah, that's about the way I thought too. But it's all true, you
know. You are property to be bought and sold, there is nothing you can do
about it, and it will never change. Both you and I prove that."
"Yes. Along with about 100 million more, I imagine," the first slave
said rather soberly. "You just never forget being marked."
Both slaves' comments were right on, although I wasn't conscious
enough to hear them at the time. After that, I never felt like a free man
again and looked upon myself as just what I was now - a piece of property.
To this day, every time someone rubs the scars of my brand or my hand
strays over either of the brand marks, I shudder realizing my body is owned
by others now and their will is my command. And I know that will never
change anymore than the brand will leave my body - once marked, you're a
slave forever.
It took a full week before the scabs were gone from my new brands, but
the two slave handlers had obviously done a good job. My brands stood out
crisply and were cleanly burned deep into my flesh so there was no way they
could ever be removed. I was well marked now as property.
After that, the training continued around the clock seven days a week
for the next five months. During that time, I never ate anything but slave
mush and only then when told to, never had a drink of water without a
handler's permission, never took a crap or even a leak without someone's
permission, never said a word when around free persons unless in response
to a command or in answering a direct question, kept my eyes to the ground
at all times unless commanded otherwise, never hesitated in displaying my
body in any fashion demanded of me, and never flinched when others' hands
roamed indiscriminately over even the most private parts of this new
property. I was fucked at least two or three times a day by one or another
of the trainers during their "breaks," frequently found myself on my knees
in front of one trainer or another (even other slaves when commanded)
struggling to swallow their organs all the way down my throat as I sucked
them off to a satisfying orgasm, learned to take a scourging from a slave
whip without screaming or trying to escape, and learned to thank my
handlers for fucking me, having me suck them off, bothering to correct me
with their whips, and letting me display myself fully aroused for their
inspection and play.
Over time, I got used to having the tiny scars of the whips all over
my body, having my prick and balls handled until they were chafed, and
having total strangers ram their pricks deep inside me. I learned to obey
any command given without hesitation and never questioned the motives of my
'betters," as I now thought of anyone not a slave themselves. I accepted
the fact I should always wear a collar like a dog, always be naked like any
other animal, eat like an animal, and that I had no desires or wishes of my
own outside of pleasing a master or mistress. By the time they eventually
got around to ringing my tits and banding my genitals so they always
protruded out in front of me, it never occurred to me to object in any way
so enslaved was I mentally as well as physically. I thought of myself as
nothing more than an animal owned by others with the sole purpose of
pleasing them.
Due to all the forced exercise and controlled diet, my body was now
exceptionally muscular, well defined without a drop of fat, and my shaved
hide glistened from the fine coat of oil applied to it each morning. I
took pride that I was a real thoroughbred, an animal any owner could take
pride in. When I stood in display, I made sure all my muscles showed
themselves to best advantage, my chest and pelvis was thrust out to best
show all my bodily attributes, and that my posture, aided by my very tall
collar, was proud and erect at all times.
At the end of six months, I was taken to a auction barn where, each
and every day, cattle, goats, mules and slaves were sold to the highest
bidder. I was taken to the section reserved for "Studs and Pleasure
Slaves" where it was thought I would bring the highest return.
I had a number of potential new masters and mistresses look me over -
some more or less superficially, others very thoroughly. Those in between
stroked me until I was full erect, hefted my balls up to judge their weight
and content, checked out my teeth, played with my tit rings until they
swelled in response, and invariably had me bend over and spread my legs
wide so they could insert at least a couple of fingers up my chute to check
for tightness and to make sure I was properly trained in taking a good
fucking. Those seriously interested asked the auction manager for
permission to jerk me off so they could study the volume and viscosity of
my cream, and, sometimes, permission to take me to the small lounge where
they could fuck me in private to judge my responses for themselves. After
the thorough training I had received, all of this seemed routine and I
thought little of it, especially since it was happening to all the other
slaves up for sale that day. The fact they were strangers didn't bother me
- the trainers varied from day to day and hence were strangers themselves
and we even had had some women trainers occasionally so mistresses looking
us over and testing us out didn't seem unusual. Although I was unprepared
for how brazen some of these prospective mistresses were in testing us -
some didn't bother taking us to the 'try-out' lounge to have us fuck them;
they just had us fuck them right there in front of everyone. Although I had
visited a couple of slave auctions back when I was free just for the fun of
it, I didn't remember slaves actually being "tested" by either men or
women, let alone in public. Maybe I was just at a small unsophisticated
sales event (very likely), big city standards were less prudish than small
town standards, or customs were changing rapidly now that slaves were so
available to most everyone.
[Later I found out none of this was true - young free boys and girls
just out to look the goods over and who didn't have any money to buy slaves
were easily spotted and shunted off to the less exciting areas where only
the draft slaves and older slaves were being sold off at bargain prices.
That way, they didn't get in the way of the sophisticated serious buyers
who were hardly at the auctions to amuse the free young boys and girls just
out looking for a cheap thrill! I remember how daring and grown-up I
thought it was at the time to grasp a draft slave's big organ and pump it
until it was good and hard. A girl not much older than myself was doing
the same thing to another big old black stud and was practically beside
herself with excitement.]
While I was thinking about my childhood adventure at the slave market,
two men had stopped to look me over. After checking my body out rather
carefully, the younger one of the two began stroking me to a full erection
while the older one hefted my balls and squeezed them tightly. When I was
hard and dripping, they ordered me to spread my legs and bend over to check
my hole. First one and then the other inserted some fingers and finger
fucked my ass for a while noting how I reacted to this type of stimulation
and made note of the fact I maintained my erection while they were probing
my ass hole. . Then the older one ordered me back to a full standing
position with my legs wide apart in that he wanted to "milk" me. I hadn't
had this done, fortunately, since some hours before when a buyer showed
some interest in me but then moved on. Besides, all the stimulation I had
endured since then practically insured a full load if the master knew what
he was doing in milking me.
Indeed he did, and within a minute or so, I was pumping out spurt
after spurt of thick hot cum into the small clay urn provided for just such
sampling of slaves' outputs. As soon as I had finished, they noted I was
sweating, flushed, and panting a bit - all good signs for a stud they
said. They each dipped a finger in my cum, felt its texture between their
fingers, and commented to each other on how thick it was. The older one,
obviously more experienced in checking out slaves, stuck his finger in the
urn and then inserted it into his mouth, rolling it around a bit in his
mouth before commenting.
"Fresh tasting - salty, but not sour. Very smooth, but not clumpy."
Looking into the urn, he added, "and lots of it considering I'm sure we're
not the first to milk this slave today. Take a taste for yourself, Aelius."
The other man took up the invitation and actually took the urn and
drank down a fair amount after swirling it around in his mouth a bit first.
"Tasty!" he announced. "But's what's it's hit record?" he added,
looking at my history recorded on a small scroll located on the stand
beside me.
The older man looked over scroll's content quickly and announced.
"The boy hasn't been bred yet - at least not enough to establish any
history in that area. But he's just the right age for breeding and
certainly has the equipment for it. He excites easily and his cream is
rich and thick and looks as good as any stud's in any of the major breeding
houses. I wouldn't worry much about him being able to successfully plant
all those slave pups we want in the wench's bellies reliably. But more
important, Aelius, at this point, is what traits are in this delicious
cream," he said as he dripped another finger in the urn and swallowed down
another big dollop. "Perfect physique, good muscular structure - just look
at those neck muscles on him under that collar - nice thin waist and hips
despite that massive chest. Unusually handsome face, smooth skinned,
bright blue eyes that practically flash at you, curly thick eyelashes, high
cheekbones, good head hair, little body hair as you can tell by the lack of
stubble on him, even down here above his prick. Nice eyebrows and those
tits of his were obviously big ones even before he was ringed. His butt is
nice and muscular - very tight above those powerful thighs - and naturally
rounded despite all the muscle. The feet and hands are well shaped and not
too large. His friskiness tells us he has no joint problems. But, best of
all, look at the size of that monster between his legs - neatly trimmed
(circumcised) like you often see among the slaves from Judea and Arabia,
well shaped despite its huge size, and admire those balls that are
perfectly shaped and big enough to match his prick as well as carry the big
loads we're both snacking on now. A stud's got to have the equipment to
deliver his goods, of course, but more important, unusually big pricks are
in demand now and mean a good 50% more on any handsome slave's price. You
don't stretch a boy to get a big prick like that - it's all in their genes
and this boy comes by his naturally. I bet his sire was hung just like
that."
Reaching down and stroking the object under discussion back to a full
erection, the older man called Lucius added, "At least 12 inches here," he
said spreading his fingers in measurement along the length of my huge
shaft, "maybe 13 on a good day." Taking his hand and reaching around my
shaft, he noted how far he was from being able to close his hand clear
around it. "I'd say a good 6-1/2 inches in circumference. Anything fucked
by that is going to know it for a good long while," he chuckled. "But it's
not so freakish he's no good as a stud. Any bigger by much and a wench
couldn't take it without getting torn up in the process. No, this is about
as big as a stud can get and still function properly when put to a wench."
"God, can you imagine taking that up your backside," the younger one,
named Aelius, asked rhetorically.
"It would be memorable all right," the man named Lucius laughed.
"You'd probably bleed for a week."
"You ever fuck a man's butt?" Lucius asked me, the one under
inspection.
I blushed and nodded affirmatively.
"Tell us about it," Lucius commanded.
"At the training center, they had me fuck another slave who was
mouthing off to his trainer, Master."
"And?" Lucius squeezed my swollen shaft hard.
"The slave was just reaching his manhood, master, and had never been
fucked at all, master. Besides, he was very small even for his age.
He.... I'm afraid he.... " I looked at the floor despite the hand firmly
around my huge dick.
"Go on, slave," Lucius demanded harshly. "I'll not tolerate an uppity
slave who doesn't promptly answer his master."
"He died while I was fucking him, master. They said he had a stroke
or something, master."
"Well, Aelius. There you are. Your apprehensions were right on. If
you buy this boy, you're going to have to be careful who you put him to and
make sure he's caged so he can't get at your other slaveboys."
"I'm sorry, master," I said genuinely to the two masters.
"There's no harm in a slave obeying an order put to him by a master,"
Lucius replied airily misinterpreting why I was sorry. "Besides, the boy's
death probably served as a good example to other slaves thinking of getting
cheeky with their betters."
"Maybe getting fucked like that didn't have anything to do with his
death," Aelius interjected. "As the slave said, someone thought he had a
stroke. The gods can be tricky that way."
"Look at this thing in my hand and tell me again a puny little punk of
a slave didn't have a stroke from having this thing rammed up his butt. If
he was that puny, he wouldn't have brought much at auction anyway,
especially if he had a smart mouth on him. I bet that was the last time
any slave in that training facility mouthed off to one of the trainers,
aren't I right, slave?"
"Yes, master. No one ever said anything to a trainer after that,
master, no matter what was asked of them, master," I responded almost in a
whisper.
"I'm sure the training facilities have to absorb a few losses now and
then just to make sure the whole training process goes smoothly. It's
worth the loss just to let the slaves know where they stand in the Empire.
Slaves need to be reminded of that every now and then, Aelius, even after
they are presumably fully trained. All slaves backslide a little over time
if you don't take some remedial action now and then."
"Yes, even the best training centers give instructions on keeping the
training intact in the slave. That part of it seems self-evident to me,
Lucius. All animals resort back to their wild state if you don't keep a
whip right on them. Especially those, like this boy, who weren't born into
it."
"Exactly. If you take this boy into your stable as a stud, I suggest
you schedule regular floggings over and above punishment beatings to keep
his mind right on it as well as make his food dependent on his output.
Nothing like deep hunger and a bleeding back to keep a slave eager to
please his master, Aelius. For example, every slave I've ever had misses
the next three meals if he doesn't please me in every way in bed; six meals
and no water if I see one hint of defiance or resentment."
"One stud farm I visited required a stud to service three wenches to
'earn' their next meal. Those boys were hungry all the time but they
fucked up a storm. The manager said it was the perfect balance between
good discipline and starving them to the point where it hurt his
investment."
"Well, everyone has their own system. Just as long as it works. Too
much whip and you tear up their pretty body. Too many missed meals and they
start to lose their steam. Too much hard work and you wear them out early
in life. It's all a matter of balance," Lucius counseled. "You remember
that handsome Thracian slaveboy I kept in restraints all the time - the one
that resented being fucked so much. Well, he took to getting fucked when I
cut his rations in half and told him he wouldn't get back to full rations
until he begged you to fuck him to start with, thanked you when you were
through with him, and was mighty lively trying to please you while you were
fucking him. After a few days of going hungry, you never saw such a change
in attitude. Turned out to be one of the best fucks I ever owned. I still
kept him in restraint just because I liked the looks of it and felt he
benefitted from the reminder of who controlled his life now over and above
regulating his food intake."
"I don't think you're going to do much better than this boy," Lucius
counseled as he again started stroking me. "That is, if you can get him
for a half-way decent price."
"Thanks for the advice. I had already decided to bid on him, but that
just confirms it. Now, how high should I go in bidding."
"I wouldn't pay a penny over 1500 denarius. He's about as good as
they get, he's young enough to stud for decades if you want, and he's
pretty enough to take to your bed anytime you get horny. But prices are
going down and 1400 denarius may do it, even for this quality," Lucius
said.
The younger man, Aelius, bought me after some heated bidding once I
was on the block again sporting a huge hard on visible to all since I had
thrust out my genitals as far as I could as the auctioneer told me to. I
sold for1250 denarius so I suspect my new owner thought he had obtained a
real bargain.
My new owner and his friend Lucius picked me up shortly after I was
sold out of the holding pens just to the right of the auction block,
reserved for goods sold. After they had leashed me by the collar, I was led
to his friend's double litter, a huge conveyance hefted onto the shoulders
of eight well-muscled slaves from Gaul, all of the same approximate height
and all very heavily hung. My new master fastened my collar leash to the
side of the litter so I was forced to walk alongside them as the litter
progressed across town. Like the litter bearers, I was stark naked. The
populace was totally acclimated to slaves' public nudity of course but the
striking masculine beauty of the litter bearers, all totally body shaved to
display well, their unusually large genitalia, and the frequently voiced
inference the naked slave leashed to the litter was either a new concubine
or destined for some brothel due to his own beauty and huge sexual organs,
was hard for them to ignore and I was well aware of their stares and bawdy
comments as we passed.
Within an hour we had arrived at my new owner's villa and my master
and his friend took me to a small stall with clean straw in a large
nondescript outbuilding located in back of the villa itself. Nearby about
a dozen female slaves were chained to the walls of other stalls in that
same building. Looking around, I seemed to be the only male slave there.
"We'll start you with these wenches here," my master said nodding to
the nearby females. "I own them and want to get them all knocked up as
soon as possible so you're going to be kept mighty busy until that occurs.
After that, a lot of slave owners holding female wenches needing to be bred
will bring them over and we'll keep them here in the rutting shed until
you've done what you're supposed to with them. I don't get paid for your
service until they are guaranteed knocked up so I'll want that done as soon
as possible in order to make some money out of you. Then I'm also going to
offer a delivery service where I'll put you in my slave transport cart and
deliver you to anyone needing a stud's services. Most of the time, I'll
bring you back the same day if we get this timed right - if not, you'll
stay wherever I take you until the broods are knocked up. In between,
you're too good looking to not fuck you whenever I get the time, including
use by my friend here, so you can count on getting your ass opened up on a
regular basis. You'll not just be fucking, but getting fucked as well," he
laughed. "That will remind you what it's like to be on the receiving end,"
he chuckled as he reached down and began stroking me to a full erection.
"And if I can find anyone interested in using you for their own pleasure,
you can count on that too. Doesn't matter whether it's a woman or a man
wanting you for their pleasure. I assume your training covered that too,
didn't it?"
"Yes, master," I responded humbly as I shuddered a bit from his
handling as well as his prognosis of my future.
"Well, now that you're good and hard," my master said as he continued
stroking me, "we might as well get started. You should be able to service
at least one of these wenches I've got, despite all that milking and such
you got back at the auction, before we call it a day."
With that, I was led by my leash to the closest stall holding a female
slave chained within it and was chained to the wall of that cell myself by
my neck collar.
The female slave knew exactly why I was there, and not wanting to be
whipped, lay down in the straw and spread her legs invitingly for the new
stud.
"Not that way, wench. On your hands and knees so the stud can enter
you properly like any other animal."
"Exactly, Aelius," Lucius said reassuringly. "Slaves always take
better when they're fucked doggie-style. The big breeders have done a lot
of research on it over the past few years. Fucking face-to-face may be
alright for you and me, but it's not good for slave reproduction. First
off, face-to-face is too familiar for slaves; secondly, you can hump deeper
they say if your ramming it in from the back; thirdly, all other animals
fuck doggie-style and slaves are no different than any other animal. No
sense getting them thinking they're any different than any other animal,
especially when it comes to breeding new slaves."
Obviously, neither I nor my selected mate had any input into any of
this. So she promptly got on her hands and knees with her legs splayed as
far apart as possible while I climbed onto her back and, using my left
hand, quickly found her vagina and slowly shoved my prick all the way into
her despite her moans and whimpers and then begin humping her. I started
gently but quickly built up to the deep pistoning expected of a good
well-trained stud as the wench beneath me groaned and quivered in response
to the deep penetration my huge organ assured. Within three minutes I
delivered a huge load into her, jerking and gasping as I did so, my body
wet with sweat. She too was wet all over by now and her small convulsions
told me she was orgasming herself in coordination with my own. As I pumped
the huge load into her, I knew somehow she was ripe for my seed and I
probably wouldn't be seeing her for at least 11 months or so.
I was right much to the delight of my new owner who just assumed one
session with me would assure a new slave pup was on the way. A missed
period the next two months confirmed the wench was knocked up successfully
and I would not see her again until it was time for another breeding. For
me, there was no waiting time involved. The very next day, I was moved on
to the next three wenches where the time of their last period indicted it
was an optimal time to be bred. I would be put to them at one time or
another that day, spaced out enough so I could deliver a good load of rich
thick cum each and every time.
Sometimes it was in the rutting shed like now. Sometimes, after a
bumpy ride in the slave transport cart, it was in someone else's rutting
shed or in the slave quarters of a villa or even in their atrium (when the
master or mistress desired to view the mating). Sometimes I found myself
being fucked by some acquaintance of my master or, more often, by either my
master or his friend Lucius who had taken a special likeness to what my
body had to offer. But everyday I was used on a most regular basis,
usually yielding three or four big loads each and every day in one
receptacle or another. By the end of a year, I had sired over 300 healthy
slave pups (as they were called) or 'pups in the making', including six
sets of twins. If I could have been knocked up by all the fucking I got, I
figured another 100 slave pups would have been produced by all the cum
rammed up my ass.
I was a long way from my stupid little job at the bakery. At the rate
I was going, I would sire 6000 slave pups before I probably was sold off as
a common labor slave, my talent as a stud probably worn out by then.
Despite what I had cost my master, it costs him very little for each slave
pup I produced, a real bargain considering that I had all the
characteristics breeders liked for their studs to pass on to the next
generation of slaves. In that same time, at the present rate, I would have
been fucked 2000 times at an even cheaper cost even if I had never studded
at all during that time and even if I was worthless as a labor slave after
20 years. The truth was, I would be worth about 400 denarius as a labor
slave at 40 years of age even if I couldn't get it up anymore and every
time I was entertaining someone in bed (not studding) was essentially free
since my main purpose was to stud.
I could see where slavery was a damn profitable business.
********
THE STUD'S NEW HOME:
"I hope 'Slave' doesn't get jealous of my new purchase," I commented
to my friend Lucius as the two of us were whiling away a Sunday afternoon
taking turns fucking the new stud I had bought. At the time, I was watching
Lucius amuse himself with the well-built boy we had purchased just three
weeks ago and who had already 'proved' himself by impregnating 11 of my 12
breeding wenches already from all indications of the tell-tale scent of
their urine.
Lucius was plowing into the boy's asschute with everything he had, the
stud beneath him moaning, gasping and twisting as Lucius's eight inches was
all the way up him and, from the look on the boy's face, was now tickling
his inner organ. Lucius had the stud on his back with his legs wrapped
around Lucius's thrashing body so he could study the handsome stud's face
as he was fucked by his owner's friend. Forbidden to close his eyes while
being fucked face up, the stud's eyes revealed the resignation of a
well-trained slave, the excitement of having his inner organ stimulated,
the pain of having his asschute stretched to the limit, the anxiety always
present as a slave struggled to meet the expectations of his master, and
the pleasure of another orgasm building within him. There was, however, no
resentment in being fucked - as a slave, it never occurred to him that he
had any right to resent being used to bring pleasure to his master and his
friend. Wasn't that what slaves did?
His hairless body was wet with sweat making his muscles gleam in the
dull glow of the afternoon's sun drifting through the windows of his
master's bedroom. He felt the hot grease so plentifully shoved up him
after being given a series of flushings in preparation for this afternoon
now oozing out around the pistoning shaft within him and dribbling down
onto his thighs as well as the sheet beneath him. But the strong smell
wasn't just sheep grease and sweat - it was also the smell of his master's
cum pumped into him twice already this afternoon before being handled over
to the friend who was now about ready to add his own contribution up his
ass. The slave knew the afternoon would be a long one - probably another
round with his master and certainly his friend wouldn't be satisfied with
just one emptying into him. If it was like the last time he had been
called to his master's bedroom, his ass would be so sore he could hardly
walk before they were through with him and his tits would be swollen for a
good week or so if they sucked and kneaded them like before. None of that
affected his studding, however, which undoubtedly would resume starting
early the next day when he was to be taken to a nearby farm where his job
was to knock up 15 more wenches owned by someone his master was renting him
to for the coming week.
"Oh, 'Slave' as ... you call.. him," Lucius panted as he pumped
vigorously into the body beneath him, "is... probably... enjoying the
... break," Lucius gasped, finding it difficult to fuck and talk at the
same time. "This... stud... is ... good and tight," he sputtered out. "Of
course.... he isn't fucked himself that... often... I suppose.. "
"Well, not nearly as much as that slave you gave me as a gift," I
answered. "In fact, this is the first time I've fucked the new stud since
you came over last Sunday and we both opened him up a bit," I laughed as I
thought back how well we did open the slave up then - three times up his
ass for me and twice down his throat all the way; the exact same for
Lucius' usage; and then both of us sucking on his tits and squeezing his
balls until he literally exploded with a huge load of spunk that was so
good we both ate it completely up for supper before jerking him off again
for a second helping.
My gift slave I had never bothered to name was hardly neglected,
however. Each morning he emptied my balls down his throat when I first
awoke with my usual early morning erection. While he was digesting that,
he fixed my breakfast and delivered it to my bed, including a sparkling
clean clay vessel totally empty. After setting the breakfast down on the
nearby stand, the well built black slave assumed a full display position
with his organs thrust into my hands and broke stance only to pick up the
empty vessel. I then pumped him to a full discharge whereupon, amidst his
panting and gasping, he managed to place the vessel so every drop of his
discharge was captured for my breakfast drink alongside the freshly baked
roll and berry juice which I also favored. The steamy fresh cum was
delicious after a slug of the berry juice and as a tasty topping for the
warm roll. Each morning, he never forgot to humbly thank me for 'milking'
him as slaves typically referred to being masturbated for their owner's
pleasure.
After a leisurely breakfast, I usually fucked the gift slave, still
standing in attendance beside my bed, before getting up for my bath and
dressing for the day. Each morning I tried to vary just how I fucked the
handsome black: on his back with his legs up; on his back with his legs
spread wide; on all fours with his knees wide apart; lying down on his
stomach with his legs splayed apart as wide as possible; on his knees with
his shoulders and face pressed to the ground; on his side with his hole
open as much as possible; standing up but bent over with his hands on his
knees for support, etc. No matter how he was fucked he knew to grip and
then pump his ass muscles around my prick when I was shooting into him for
my added pleasure; to 'milk' my prick with his ass muscles whenever I
wasn't pumping him but was inserted well into him; and to always look
interested and pleased when I had him on his back and could study his
face. He knew I enjoyed hearing his little moans and groans as he adjusted
to the invasion of his hole by my shaft and his little gasps of pleasure
when I rammed into his inner organ. But he also knew I wouldn't tolerate
any screams, shouts of pain, or any signs of resistance no matter what I
was shoving up his ass or down his throat - even the biggest dildos or butt
plugs had to be accepted - even treasured. Although he knew he couldn't
talk unless ordered to do so, he also knew this did not include thanking me
for his use, no matter how or when or how much I or anyone I designated
used him.
I glanced over to Lucius just as he arched his back, his ass cheeks
slammed together, and inserted himself totally into the stud slave beneath
him and then bucked and quivered as his first load of the day was delivered
well up into the slave's rectum to join the two loads I had already
deposited there. After six or seven final thrusts, Lucius let out a sigh
of relief and began working his large prick out of the stud's still
quivering asshole who was whimpering from the ordeal. When he was
completely out, the stud, without being told, promptly went down on the
cum- coated shaft of his user and suckled him completely clean, swallowing
the residue of sweat, cum, and perfumed sheep grease with a smacking of his
lips before uttering the expected "Thank you, master," slaves humbly voiced
after being used like this.
"White-skinned slaves always look so clean when they're properly body
shaved like this one," Lucius commented as he smacked the stud's butt in
dismissal, noting the smudge of cum he got on his hand as he did so,
promptly rubbing it off in the slave's hair. You don't see too many white
studs hung like this one," he added as he gripped the huge swollen shaft of
the slave and began pumping it a bit.
"Or black one's either," I laughed, knowing full well, all things
being equal, white slaves were just as big as black slaves until you ran
into one group or another specially bred for big pricks.
"With all the careful breeding going on now, it won't be too long
until all slaves are as big- dicked as this slave, no matter what color
their hide," Lucius agreed, stroking the slave he had just fucked until the
slave was dripping in need, not having been allowed to empty his own balls
in this long afternoon of constant stimulation.
"You going to use the slave now?" Lucius queried, moving his hand off
of the slave's prick before it exploded in his hand.
"Nope. Tomorrow he's back in the saddle pumping his load out for my
profit. But I do have a surprise for you, Lucius. Tonight, I've invited a
few friends over for supper. You know most of them, I think, so I hope you
can join us. Nothing fancy - just some plain, simple food. But I was
having this stud and my gift slave serve as the waiters with a little
surprise entertainment you might enjoy."
"Yes?" Lucius motioned for me to get to the point before committing
himself for the evening.
"I'm going to let this stud fuck my new gift slave to amuse us," I
revealed. "I won't let him shoot off, of course - he has to save his spunk
for the wenches he'll be put to tomorrow - but he can have the pleasure of
fucking a very nice looking, tight assed, black boy - something he won't
get to do too much under my ownership, I'll wager."
"Aelius, you'll ruin your black boy putting this stud to him," Lucius
exclaimed. "He's way too big for that black to take, no matter what
training he's had before he was sold off."
"Well, that's part of the excitement, isn't it, Lucius," I replied.
"I'm betting he can take him. You want to place a small wager he can't?"
"This white stud's already told you he's killed a slave with that
monster of his," Lucius retorted. "Now you want to kill off your birthday
present who wasn't cheap, I might add," Lucius almost shouted. "Talk about
a waste of expensive slave flesh," he added disgustedly. "See if I buy any
more slaves for you, Aelius."
"Calm down, Lucius. Calm down. I've been stretching the black boy
ever since you gave him to me - a bigger dildo up his butt each and every
night when I'm through fucking him. He's now able to take a replica of the
stud's prick up his butt with nothing more than a lot of moaning and
groaning and some delightful little gasps as the pain hits him."
"I'd have to see it to believe it, Aelius. If you've stretched him
that much, aren't you afraid you're turning him into a sloppy fuck, like
those worn out slaves you see in the brothels?"
"Nope. I counteract the stretching with some exercises each and every
day designed to keep the ass muscles tight but very flexible. I've tested
him out with the dildos over and over. He's tight as the day you gave him
to me - yet stretchable enough to take this white stud with no more than
some heavy whimpering and cute little gasps."
"We'll see, but if the black up and dies in the demonstration, that's
the last damn slave I'm ever giving you," Lucius said with conviction.
"Still..... it will be interesting to see if what you say is even half
true."
"I take it you will join us for supper than, Lucius?" I smiled. "I
knew you couldn't resist my .... shall we say... delicious wholesome food?"
"Your dinner menu isn't what's appealing," Lucius laughed. "God, the
last time I stayed over for supper you served sausages and cooked cabbage,
some wormy apples, and a spice cake topped with hot cum sauce we pumped out
of the waiters. Weird!"
"The spice cake?" I replied.
"No, stupid, the rest of it. Why apples with cabbage?" Lucius
retorted. "The spice cake was the only decent part of the meal, especially
since the waiters were so good looking."
With that, Lucius left to get cleaned up for the evening event. I
took the opportunity to fuck the stud one more time before he would have to
go back to the slave quarters and clean himself out again before bathing
and oiling his body so he would show well that night.
I cleaned up myself for supper, although I was pretty well spent in
terms of fucking slaves that night. My friends arrived as scheduled, along
with Lucius who looked none the worse for wear considering what had gone on
just a few hours before, and the light supper of grilled fish, baked beans,
and chopped fresh cabbage was served by the two naked, oiled slaves: my new
black slave and my new white stud slave. Both were young, well hung, well
muscled, extremely good looking, and, other than the skin color, could have
passed for brothers. Both were devoid of any body hair below their collared
necks, both were gleaming in oil, and both sported erections throughout the
evening, reflecting their good training. Each slave made no objection to
the frequent fondling of their bodies as they hovered over the guests,
including having their erect pricks stroked, their balls squeezed and
weighed, their tits suckled and pinched, their butts stroked and patted,
and their holes opened and explored by prying fingers. I only allowed my
guests to milk my black slave, however, for their dessert treats in that I
wanted the stud slave keep 'eager' for the entertainment to
follow. Consequently, my black slave had to satisfy the lot of them, giving
up five separate loads in the process whereupon he was barely able to crawl
over to the rutting bench I had had placed in front of us for our
entertainment. When I had snapped the bench's restraints shut to make sure
the slave was correctly positioned for a good fucking, I led my stud over
by a leash attached to his neck collar, picked up his erect prick to once
again show its huge size off to my guests, and explained to the stud I
wanted him to fuck my black slaveboy slowly and thoroughly for our
amusement. The black slave, looking up from his tight restraints, gasped
as I continued stroking the white's huge organ and began to comprehend
every single inch of it was going to go up into his body and stay there
while he was fucked without mercy. I admonished the black slave to not
disturb my guests with any unseemly screams or shouts while my other slave
was fucking him or he would be promptly gagged with a 6" penis gag rammed
down his throat and that it would be rude to pass out. I also reminded
him, as he continued to stare at the huge organ on my white slave, that he
had been dildo-fucked repeatedly to prepare him for just such an occasion
and so he was fully stretched to accommodate my white slave no matter what
he thought about it right now. "Dildos always look smaller than the real
thing," I counseled. "Probably because they aren't quivering in need."
With that, I kicked the black's legs apart as far as they would go
within his restraints, and, positioning the white slave so all my guests
had a good view of him both sideways and to enjoy his butt muscles in
action, placed his prick at the black slave's open hole and then slapped
the white stud on the butt as a signal he was to start fucking now.
With a very audible groan, the first half of the stud's prick
disappeared up the black's hole followed by stifled moans and smothered
screams of pain as, inch by inch, the rest of the stud's shaft was rammed
all the way up the black. Once in, the stud rested for a moment before
starting fucking. It was during that moment, the black, his eyes bulging
out and his body totally tensed, groaned loudly despite himself, and we all
saw a tiny tinkle of blood oozing out of the black's ass. Not enough to be
alarmed about - just enough to know even the well-trained black had reached
his limit. The black slave gasped loudly as the white stud began to
withdraw slightly to begin his fucking and again we saw a tiny amount of
blood on the portion of the white stud's shaft that had been withdrawn.
Again, the white stud paused briefly to position himself for the best angle
in fucking the helpless slave restrained beneath him. The black slave
again groaned, gasped, and then shuddered as the pain of being stretched to
the limit overcame him.
Then the actual fucking began. Over and over the white stud plunged
full length into the black slave to the hilt and then withdrew halfway over
and over and faster and faster amid constant panting, gasping for air, and
the sound of skin slapping on skin. The contrast of skin colors made the
scene even more erotic and soon sweat was flying off the stud, oozing off
the black slave beneath him, and the distinctive scent of rutting animals
filled the room.
After a good ten minutes, the white stud pleaded, "Master, I'm going
to shoot. Master, I can't hold it much longer."
The master said nothing for the next minute of frantic pumping in and
out of the black's asshole, but then, almost casually, said, ""Shoot,
slave... You've earned it I suppose considering all the use you got this
afternoon."
With that, the stud plunged into the black all the way, arched his
back, and, quivering as his load was pumped out in surges, collapsed on the
black slave's sweat-drenched back until he was completely drained, his huge
balls now loose and flabby. The black beneath him never moved, even as the
white stud withdrew completely from his hole, his still huge shaft covered
in spent grease, cum, body sweat and traces of blood.
"Have the black slave clean you off," I instructed the white stud, who
promptly moved in front of the rutting bench so the black would have access
to his organ.
But the black slave never moved as we saw more and more residue oozing
out of his stretched hole fully exposed on the rutting bench. The white
stud reached forward to move the black's face to his spent organ only to
have it swing loose out of his hand.
"The black's dead," Lucius laughed. "I win the wager."
"What wager?" another guest asked.
"Oh, I wagered Aelius the black slave couldn't take a fucking from
something as big as this white stud of Aelius's. It's obvious he's either
dead or passed out"
I moved over to the rutting bench to check the situation out for
myself as I pushed the white stud out of the way. Picking up the black
slave's head, I felt for a pulse on his neck muscle right above his slave
collar and, sure enough, felt it beating.
"He's not dead, Lucius. He simply passed out from being fucked so
expertly by my new stud. I told you I have stretched him thoroughly with
those huge dildos. I'm not paying you anything. See," I reached down and
pinched the black slave's tit to get a reaction, "already the slave is
rousing himself for another round of getting fucked."
Indeed, the black slave did moan slightly but was unable to open his
eyes yet. He had heard, as if he were a great distance away, something
about getting fucked again and slipped back into unconsciousness. But he
came to again when he felt the shackles being released from his ankles and
wrists and felt the white stud lift him off the rutting bench and onto a
nearby chair where he slowly came back into this world.
"Thank you, master," seemed to be the only thing to say. Indeed it
was. His master, seeing the slave wouldn't be much good to fuck anymore
that night ordered the white stud to lift him up over his shoulder and for
the two of them to hit the flushing room and then bathe themselves. They
were through for the night, he said, and had permission to rest up for
tomorrow. Both slaves now quickly said "Thank you, master," and left the
room before the command was reversed. But not before they received
applause from the dinner guests, including their master's friend Lucius.
"Well done, Aelius!" they all said in unison. "Most entertaining."
Both slaves leaving the room knew their value went up a bit with that
accolade, but both also knew fame brought even greater use.
The next morning, the black slave was back into his regular routine,
first sucking off his master and then fixing the breakfast which would lead
to producing the usual breakfast snack of hot cum for his master and then
probably getting soundly fucked before his master prepared for the day's
activities.
That activity would include taking the white stud in his slave
transport cart to the nearby farm that was renting his stud service. He
felt certain the white stud would have the lot of them knocked up by the
end of the week and he'd be pocketing the fairly high stud fees when he
picked him up next Saturday, hopefully none the worse for wear. He'd be
sure to remind the stud of exactly what was expected of him by that time
and to tell the neighbor renting him to keep the stud right at it to get
the job done as quickly as possible. Sometimes, even the best studs needed
a little reminder on their backsides of just why they had been purchased to
start with.
By next Saturday night, my black slave was completely back into his
regular routine of servicing all of my needs with enthusiasm and any
soreness or bleeding from entertaining my guests had long gone. Since I
fucked him at least twice a day during that week, I didn't ascertain the
entertainment had hurt him in any way - he seemed just as tight and
receptive as he always had. My exercise program paid off! Even my friend
Lucius, who fucked him twice on Wednesday during a visit, admitted having
the prodigiously equipped white stud fuck him didn't seem to have any
lasting effect one way or the other.
I had picked up my white stud as scheduled in that the wenches he had
been put to repeatedly were all now probably successfully impregnated with
new slave pups going by his past record. Although he was tired and his
prick was a little chafed, he wasn't completely tuckered out in that I was
able to stroke him to a full erection in only a little more time than
usual. His balls were sore, however, from so much use, and he flinched
with I squeezed them to test for fullness. They were spongy and soft -
that neighbor had completely drained them over the week but then, he had
paid his money for just that. I figured with a two-day "re-charging" rest
over Sunday and Monday, I could load him up in the slave transport cart
again on Tuesday morning for a visit to another neighbor seeking his
services with his own brood of wenches awaiting impregnation.
******* BUYING A SECOND STUD FOR NEXT TO NOTHING:
The first year of slave breeding had gone well. The first pups were
popping out of the selected wenches right on schedule and the stud-for-rent
business was fully booked due to the slave's sure-fire record of "hits."
We were getting impregnations about half the time now if we put the broods
under him at just the right time in their ovulation cycle and didn't
over-schedule him so he had plenty of time to manufacture a good fertile
load before he was called to duty once again. The sturdy white stud never
complained that I heard of and still seemed amiable to getting fucked
himself fairly regularly by me and my friends. My best friend Lucius had
never lost his attraction to the muscular well-hung boy and he alone made
sure the boy's ass was kept open and well used.
Meanwhile, I still had my 'gift slave," the handsome jet-black slave
given me by Lucius. He too had never failed to satisfy, no matter what I
demanded of him. In fact, he seemed even more eager to please me than when
he had first been gifted to me. I supposed he was getting used to his new
owner, to the role of a good pleasure slave in the Roman world, and to the
fact he had escaped the horrors of the mines and construction crews as long
as he was found pleasing in bed. Like my white stud, he was well fed, well
exercised, and protected from the much harsher lives most slaves endured
throughout the Empire and, again like my white stud, was most appreciative
of that. But, of course, he was a bred slave, who predictably settled into
whatever role they were sold into. My preference to shiny jet-black hides
hadn't diminished one iota due to the ready availability of just such a
package anytime I was in the mood. While other owners seemed to satiate on
particular colors or builds with the ready access ownership made possible,
the opposite seemed to happen in my case - I practically got addicted to
having sex with my black slave and tended to be dissatisfied sexually when
using my friend's slaves urged upon me as part of their hospitality or
slaves loaned out to me for a trial run by the auction houses. Indeed,
even fucking my magnificently built white stud slave didn't have quick the
kick in it I found in fucking the gifted black.
After all this time, I still thought my black pleasure slave should be
studding so that I could be selling off clones of him in another 15 to 20
years. But Lucius's arguments against it prevailed and so my black slave's
prick never entered a woman and his sperm was never used for making new
slaves. Other than letting him shoot off occasionally while I was fucking
him sometimes or, much more often, milking him for a tasty little snack,
almost all cum was someone else's and was going the other way: either down
his throat or up his rectum. The black's cock- sucking skills were even
better than they were when I first got him - he could now swallow even the
biggest pricks all the way down without gagging or choking and holding it
there until he had extracted a full load deep into his stomach. Moreover,
his ability to offer up an exquisite fuck was unparalleled - he had trained
his ass muscles to actually pump a shaft inserted in him without any effort
on the part of the person fucking him and he knew exactly when to clamp
down on a deeply inserted penis at just the right time to give the fucker
more satisfaction than he had ever experienced before with a slave, no
matter how well trained they claimed they were. Despite the fact his penis
wasn't the gigantic size of most slaves selected as studs, I still felt he
would sell for well over a thousand denarius, even in today's crowded
markets.
Five years later, I remained just as enamored with my black slave as I
had ever been and still continued to use him several times each and every
day. Unlike my friend Lucius, I wasn't one to tire easily of a good thing
and consequently never copied my friend in his habit of constantly selling
off stock for a profit and replacing it with something new and different
and then selling that off as he got bored. Lucius, as far as I was
concerned, was little different than a slave dealer other than he certainly
enjoyed his stock on hand at any given time. He made tremendous profits
along the way while never suffering from not having some good looking slave
around to service him at any given time.
My white stud was still at it with no 'down-time' and my slave
nurseries were jammed full of stock rapidly pursuing the destiny which the
gods had ordained by being selectively bred. In another decade, the eldest
among them would be reaching the final stages of their training and a few
years after that would be at their peak, proudly displaying themselves,
their handsome muscular bodies gleaming with a fresh coat of oil and their
pricks in full erection, on an auction block as the bids on them went
higher and higher.
But, in the interim, I had a hell of a lot of brood mares to feed, a
bunch of pups who ate even more, and some trainers that had to be paid what
they were worth. Lucius didn't have to remind me that I needed a black
stud to join my white one. The market forces were clear.
Lucius had been right years ago in predicting the future markets.
Black slaves, for whatever reason, were becoming more and more popular and
consequently were selling for more. It was obvious if the trend continued,
the price premium once given to white slaves would shift to black slaves.
Indeed, in some regions of the country, blacks were already selling about
10% more than whites, all other factors being equal. Blacks hung like
horses were especially desirable, even, strangely, where the size of their
pricks had nothing to do with their duties once bought. It was easy to see
the premium money being spent on black bucks going to the public brothels
or to the pleasure slave and stud markets. But why did extraordinarily
hung blacks bring more at the auctions when they were headed for the
construction crews, the mines, and the manufacturing plants where their big
pricks would get little to no use outside of being played with by their
overseers and handlers? Public fashions seemed so fickle, especially when
it came to slaves and the prices they sold for. Nevertheless, it was
obvious I was going to have to find the means, somehow, to come up with a
black stud with all the 'best' genetic traits the market demanded. But how?
Lucius, as usual, found a solution to my problem. A few months ago, a
large train of slave transport carts was taking a new batch of freshly
purchased black studs to a very large breeding operation down near
Neapolis. These new purchases, as could be expected, possessed all of the
traits desirable in male breeding stock: big, muscular, disease-resistant,
strikingly handsome, flawless skin, and, of course, sex organs so big only
a handful of women could be coupled with them, even opened up by previous
pregnancies and well greased to boot. The carefully selected black studs
had sold at astronomical prices, still the talk of the slave market
reports.
Upon their sale, they had been herded into 10 slave transport carts
carrying five slaves each, fully equipped with fresh straw and water
bottles clamped on all the open bars making up the sides of the carts, and
then close chained into a highly restricted crouching position within one
cart of another for the long trip. The close chaining of the slaves kept
the owner's investment secure as well, of course, kept them from fucking
the other slaves in their particular cart, sucking each other, or even
playing with themselves the duration of the trip. They could, however,
reach the water nozzle closest to their restrained position. All the studs
had been cleaned out thoroughly in preparation for the long trip and they
could piss in place easily enough - the open air carts allowed good
ventilation although nights would be a little chilly, especially since they
couldn't hunch against each other for warmth as most had done in the
holding pens of the auction house. With the numerous whips of the loaders
cracking over their naked hides and the occasional sizzle of a hot iron,
some yelps and screams were inevitable until all these epitomes of male
perfection were in their barred carts, chained with their hands behind
their back and their legs shackled together , and ready for the long trip.
Four hours later they were beside what was thought to be a dormant
volcano. Without warning, the volcano burst into eruption, whereas the
drivers and all the cargo were instantly killed in a cloud of hot ashes,
pelting debris and flaming gases. Of the 51 stud slaves being taken to
their new home, about half were instantly killed by the hot iron bars of
their cages thrust through their bodies as the transport carts were twisted
and crushed by the pelting debris. The other half were burnt to death by
the flaming gases, unable to escape due to their constraining chains and
iron cages until they were just pieces of charred black flesh totally
unrecognizable as human stock anymore. The drivers of the 10 carts, along
with a few handlers brought along for unloading the slaves, were all killed
in the first wave of hot ashes, generally suffocating to death before they
were cooked by the hot gases.
The happy news was that the new owners of the slaves were fully
insured and got back what they had paid for their new supply of studs. But
the contracted slave transport company was not - the families of the 10
free drivers got nothing for their loss. All of the caged slave carts and
the three slaves utilized as handlers owned by the company had to be
written off as a total loss, a considerable set-back even for a company in
the slave transport business for a number of years.
Within a week after the accident, a flesh batch of new "equally good"
black studs had already been purchased at yet another large market in a
different region of the country and had already reached their new
destination where they were getting their first experience at the rutting
benches.
What wasn't reported was that one stud in the fiery inferno had
actually survived, albeit horribly scarred on his upper body and with a
face grotesquely disfigured, so badly people gasped in horror when they
viewed him. The damage was confined to the upper part of the slave's body
though, so, from the waist down he remained just as magnificent as when he
had first been sold as a promising stud. Lucius had found out about this
survivor from an insurance company agent who was willing to take whatever
he could get for the slave at salvage prices. Lucius said it was the
answer to my prayers.
Upon Lucius's insistence, we went to the insurance company slave pens
and I almost puked when I first saw this monster. He had one runny eye
left, no jaw but a few ragged teeth hanging through what was left of an
upper lip, no ears, and no nose but a hole where one might have once been.
He could barely see with his one distended eye, couldn't hear anymore with
no ears, breathed nosily through the hole that used to be a nose, and could
only eat the soft slave mush or liquified slave gruel with no fixed teeth
in place. He could only grunt since his vocal chords were burnt away and
his head hung to one side of his slave collar due to his neck tendons being
severed as he had struggled to break his restraints in panic.
I quickly diverted my eyes from the sickening sight and turned my back
to his cage.
"Aelius, don't look at his ugly topside which I admit is about as
gross as it gets. But turn around and look at this thing below the
waist. Don't look up, just down below the waist and tell me you don't like
what you see."
I turned and did as he said, being careful not to look upward at what
had once been a human being. What I saw was amazing. Totally unscarred,
totally unblemished in any way was a perfect set of abs, well tapered
muscular thighs, great calves and feet, a nicely rounded muscular butt,
and, spectacularly, the biggest, most perfectly shaped prick and set of
balls I had ever seen, including the white stud I owned who I though was
about as big as men got. This black had it all over my white stud by a
good two inches in length and another inch or two in girth. Even flaccid,
he was at least 10"x6". I couldn't imagine him erect.
"Slave, display," Lucius ordered sharply with a smack to the slave's
butt. The slave, unable to hear the verbal command, understood from the
smack what was wanted and thrust out his organs and tensed his butt but was
physically unable to put his hands in back of his neck or display his
scarred chest in any way.
"Now, Aelius, don't look up but take that big prick in your hand and
start stroking it. I want you to see for yourself what's left of this
boy's body."
Being careful not to look at the slave's flagitious face again, I did
as my friend directed and within less than a minute, the huge prick swelled
steadily in my hand until it had grown a good three inches in length and a
good three more inches around and attempted to stand out from his body, the
sheer weight of the huge organ preventing it standing out more than 45
degrees or so from his body. Nevertheless, continued stroking led to a
quick dribbling at the end of the huge prick as pre-cum worked its way to
the opening. The huge prick quivered in my hand, now unable to hold the
huge thing with just one hand. The black's prick alone must have weighed a
couple of pounds in and of itself.
"Imagine him wearing a full metal mask, a completely covered head
cage, over his face at all times - a full head and face covering welded on
forever with only a hole for feeding and another that allowed him to
breathe and a leather harness covering the top part of his torso so you
never saw those scars from the burning. He can't see or hear anything
anyway, so there's no need to look at his ugliness. He can always be led
around with a leash we'll attach to this full covered helmet and he'll take
all his commands from smacks on the butt. One smack for display; two to
fuck; three to stop fucking; four to take a milking; and so on and so
forth. He'll learn quickly enough."
I was speechless as I kept stroking the huge thing in my hand until,
with a tightening of his hips and a small grunt accompanied with some heavy
breathing, the stud deposited a huge load of steaming hot cum into my hand
and spilling out onto the concrete floor beneath us.
"The insurance company's claim agent will sell him to you for a mere
10 denarius if you take him today," Lucius continued. "He wants to get the
account closed out and the whole matter behind him."
"A covered head cage and harness?" I muttered as I tried to wipe some
of the cum off of my hand, knowing I couldn't rub it off in the slave's
non-existent head hair or have him lick me clean.
"Did you ever see gladiators fighting with only an iron helmet on
them, Aelius?"
I admitted I had some years ago and recalled the legend of a gladiator
who was once a prince before being kidnaped and sold into slavery. His new
owner hid his identity from the public by having such a helmet permanently
locked in place on him after severing his vocal chords so he could never
reveal who he had once been.
"No different. We'll have one made up and welded on him in no time
and a leather harness to cover his upper torso will be easy enough to come
by. Shouldn't cost you more than a denarius at most, including welding it
on," Lucius said excitedly. "Just think, Aelius. For a total of 11
denarius, you're going to have one of the best black studs in the
business. What he looks like now has nothing to do with the genes he'll be
passing on each and every day. His offspring will look as good as he did
before the accident. I have a rough sketch of what he used to look like
the insurance guy had made from the recollections of the auctioneer who
sold him so you can see for yourself," Lucius added as he thrust the crude
sketch of an strikingly handsome, even beautiful, black slave in front of
me. "That's him," Lucius pointed out. "That's what his pups will look
like."
"It's a deal if this full helmet and body harness of yours covers that
face and upper body completely and forever," I responded. "I can't stand
looking at him like that," I added for good measure.
"Neither could the wenches you'll be putting him to," Lucius
laughed. "With the covered head cage locked in place, they can only imagine
what a handsome man lies behind it. All they'll know for sure is what
they're being fucked with so my guess is they'll think Apollo himself is
undereneath that metal helmet."
"Are you sure we can get food and water in him with the helmet on?" I
queried.
"No problem. You can feed him slave gruel through a thick reed tube
or even a leather hose - anything he can suck through with what's left of
his mouth. Same with the water," Lucius assured me. "We'll make sure it
will fit right through the helmet's mouth hole."
The very next day, Lucius, ever a great friend, had found a metalsmith
who made up the helmet and installed it permanently. It was made of a
bright bronze for light weight, decorated with touches of silver plate, and
featured a relief like that of a Roman god - beautiful high cheekbones,
prominent eyebrows (now silver plate), a beautiful Greek nose (which
allowed plenty of air to pass through to the hole in his head where a nose
had once been), a delicate mouth with silver plated lips (slightly open so
the leather feeding tube would easily fit through it), and a new bronze
slave collar with leash rings all around it molded into the bottom of the
full helmet to assure it would never come off his thick muscled 20" neck.
A leather shop had made up a leather harness that expanded to cover all of
his upper body, including his back, shoulders, and pectorals (all the
scarred areas), which emphasized his size, build, and yet was flexible
enough for him to move around easily. It was a soft kid leather which
would last for years, was light weight, and could withstand the daily
washings the slave would have for cleanliness.
When all had been installed, the black slave was magnificent. Masked
in splendor above; totally naked and exposed below where his present prized
attributes were located.
"Won't the slave get too hot encapsulated in all that metal?" I asked,
imagining such a device welded on me. "Imagine the sweat under all that
bronze."
"He'll get used to it," Lucius assured me. "Besides, the metalsmith
put a few small vent holes right above where it's welded to his collar and
at the top of the helmet. No one can see in, but it lets some air through.
Besides, its' just a slave and you know how they get used to things over
time."
"Oh, I didn't notice the vent holes," I replied. "And you're right.
Lucius. I suppose a slave would get used to that just like they do a
collar or the ring around their manhood," I assured myself. "Slaves adjust
to about anything."
When I leashed him for the first time and led him back to my breeding
barn, I knew my prayers for prosperity had been answered. For a few
denarius, hundreds of full black pups could now be added to my growing
stock of whites and mulattoes. As Lucius forecast, those new black pups
would sell for even more than my white ones and no one would know they had
been bred by a literal monster.
Everything worked out exactly as Lucius had said it would. The helmet
and upper body harness never came off the black stud so no one ever saw his
horrible disfigurement again. He could be fed easily enough; he could
breathe through his new 'nose' and he didn't need to hear or see or talk
for what he was purchased to do. He could be led to his duties on a leash
and given orders through slaps on his muscular rump. He had no trouble
humping on command and delivered a big load each and every time with a hit
rate rivaling my white stud who learned to like his new companion over time
even though he couldn't talk, couldn't hear, and couldn't see. But the
helmeted black stud liked being fucked by the white occasionally and didn't
mind returning the favor when their owner found that amusing.
One night, after I had finished fucking my white stud to my complete
satisfaction, the slave risked asking me a question.
"Master, I know slaves aren't suppose to ever talk unless answering a
question or acknowledging a command, but I just wonder why your new black
stud is covered by his helmet and harness all the time?" he quietly asked,
knowing he could be severely punished for speaking out like this. "Is he
being punished?"
I immediately slapped the white stud across his face for his
impertinence, but decided to answer.
"It's so you don't get jealous of him," I answered. "He's so good
looking it would make you feel inferior if you could see all of him, not
just that huge prick of his."
"Thank you, master," the white stud answered but then decided to risk
speaking again despite being slapped previously. "The black stud is about
the heaviest hung slaveboy I've ever seen, Master" he giggled. "But,
master, I wouldn't be jealous of him - I'm not jealous of your pleasure
slave and he's about as good looking as slaves get if seems."
"I can see why, with me letting you fuck him occasionally when my
guests need a little entertainment."
"Yes, master," the white stud smiled.
"Just let me make the decisions around here, slave. I note the helmet
doesn't keep you from fucking the black stud when you get a chance."
"No, master. Nor him fucking me when master desides," he giggled
again.
"You've got me all horny with all this slave talk about fucking. Get
on your hands and knees, boy, with your legs spread so your hole is open.
I'm in the mood to fuck you again."
"Yes, master," the white slave replied as he quickly assumed the
commanded position and sighed deeply as I entered him for the second time
that night. When I was all the way up him, he muttered "Thank you,
master," as I began to plow in and out of his still tight hole.
That was the last time I ever got a question about the black stud's
helmet and permanent harness. Neither the white stud nor my black pleasure
slave ever inquired again about the strange apparition that, over time,
became part and parcel of the black stud. But then, slaves don't ask
questions of their masters.
THE ESTATE SETTLEMENT:
TWO YEARS LATER:
I had just finished giving the eulogy for my close friend Lucius. He
had died in a tragic ship wreck returning, as was so typical of him, from a
slave merchant in a city less than 50 miles down the coast who had come
across an exceptionally handsome Syrian slave he had thought would interest
Lucius. The merchant was right. Lucius had bought the beautiful brown
18-year- old on the spot following a thorough body inspection for a very
hefty price and, after taking the newly purchased slave to a slave cage
fitted into his small room aboard the galley, had intended to bed the boy
down properly once the ship was well underway. But fate intervened. In
the first hour after departure, the ship ran into a sudden severe squall
and instantly capsized with no survivors. The heavily muscled galley
slaves were chained to their oars, of course, so they always went down with
the ship unless a compassionate whip-master was able to unshackle them in
time, but, in this case, even the few passengers with their attendant
slaves onboard did not survive nor did any of the officers and crew.
My eulogy pointed out Lucius's zest for life, his enjoyment of his
always rotating stable of handsome slaveboys, his generosity in frequently
sharing his slaveboys with his friends, his willingness to share his vast
knowledge about almost all aspects of slavery with other slaveholders even
to the point of sometimes accompanying a brand new slave purchaser to the
market to help them sort out all the goods and to get a decent price, and,
finally, how Lucius had given me outright my very first slave, a boy I had
never tired of and I still had at home.
I emphasized that Lucius was born into money and never had the need to
engage in a career himself, but this did not prevent him from pursuing
numerous interests and constantly enriching his knowledge. If he had been
born into more moderate circumstances, I postulated, Lucius would have been
both an exemplar slave dealer and an innovative slave breeder. Even as it
was, he had enriched his estate considerably by frequently and astutely
trading his own personal slaves and had certainly enriched my own estate by
his sound advice in the complex field of contemporary slave breeding.
Just a few days after the funeral, the lawyers handling Lucius's
estate visited me. Lucius had no living relatives, they stated, and
consequently had left half of his estate to various charities and the other
half to me. All his assets would be split according to the terms of his
will once they had been appraised, including his estate, his vacation
retreat in Sicily, all of his investment portfolio of huge holdings in
various business enterprises through the Empire, his 14 estate maintenance
and household slaves, his current pleasure slave, and - my birthday gift of
years ago. They explained that Lucius had never bothered to fill out the
appropriate transfer of ownership papers for my birthday gift of the
handsome black slave and consequently it legally had to be considered part
of the estate and appropriately appraised. They also mentioned that the 15
other slaves in Lucius's estate were in their prime, were generally well
built and very muscular and attractive, although not as strikingly handsome
and well hung as his current pleasure slave of course.
"Normally, in a case like this," one of the lawyers continued, "we
take custody of the estate property you're currently holding, and place him
in the pool of estate items to be auctioned off to settle the estate.
However, since you have had the estate property under your roof for a
number of years now, we could look at several other options. You could
sign some papers acknowledging you have an estate property on loan to you
temporarily and we could leave the slave here under your custody for now
with payment of an appropriate rental fee so we don't look negligent as
executioners of the estate; or we could arrange to have the slave appraised
almost immediately and let you buy him outright from the estate at a
non-auction "fair market price" set by the appraiser; or, if you're tired
of the property anyway, we can just take him with us now and add him to the
estate holdings awaiting auction. The choice is entirely up to you,
especially," he winked, "since half of everything will end up with you
anyway. If you're tired of Lucius's old gift to you, perhaps you'd like
the temporary loan of some of his other estate slaves with appropriate
rental fees of course until the estate is settled. Even the ones he bought
to trim his gardens and hedges would make most satisfactory bed bucks I
would think. I was expecting to find just some ordinary draft slaves but
when I saw them the other day, I was astonished. Prime meat by anyone's
standards - almost a waste to have them sweeping up and clipping hedges -
especially at what he probably paid for them!"
"When you see the slave Lucius gave me, you'll understand why I still
have him," I laughed. "I suggest another alternative you have failed to
mention so far. You let me keep my gift from Lucius right here while you
send an appraiser over and set a fair market price for him. Take that
price out my share of the estate, send me over the proper ownership papers
on the property and forget about any rent payments. In return for any
inconvenience this may cause you, why don't you and your colleague take a
little break and enjoy the property under discussion while my cook fixes
lunch for the three of us. He's in the front bedroom right now making up
the bed and freshening the room. Just tell him he's part of the
hospitality package today - he'll know exactly what that means - the gods
know he's entertained hundreds of my guests over the years now. I'll
arrange to have lunch served in the main dining room around one
o'clock. It's 11:30 now - that should give you sufficient time to enjoy and
then freshen up - the slave can help you with that too in that there's a
nice bath connected to the bedroom."
"You're assuming the slave will be appealing to us?" the lawyer cocked
his eye. "I'm afraid I'm a little fussy when it comes to who I allow to
pleasure me."
"He'll appeal to you," I stated flatly. "I've never found one living
soul he didn't appeal to. Frankly, as Lucius himself used to point out,
he's the sexiest piece of meat you've ever laid your eyes on, even though I
know you've seen a lot of slaves over the years."
The lawyer looked at his colleague who was already showing a bulge
through his costly tunic. Noting his colleague's obvious interest, he
nodded agreement and without another word, both elaborately clothed
attorneys headed up the main staircase for the front bedroom.
After ordering the lunch with my slave chef, I passed the front
bedroom on my way to my office. Emanating from the room were the expected
sounds: the black's familiar muffled groans as his ass was being plowed
once again, some slurping sounds as the black slave was obviously
simultaneously sucking off the other lawyer and the gasps and panting of
men well into some serious fucking. Even from my office I heard some loud
moans of men in the throes of orgasm including one memorable outburst:
"Mother of Janus, that's the best fuck I've ever had," quickly adjoined by
a deeper voice proclaiming, "Blessed Vesta, we've got to get something like
this for ourselves."
Shortly after that, the whole routine seemed to start up again but
eventually I heard slashing sounds which mean they were cleaning up for
dinner. Promptly at 1 o'clock, both men appeared fresh as a daisy,
remarkably relaxed, and, again, fastidiously dressed. Both had good
appetites and the delicious meal was devoured rather quickly with
considerable gusto. They certainly also appreciated the slave-chef serving
the meal, my exceedingly handsome and very well hung Greek slave kept
totally nude and fully body shaved.
"Go ahead and fondle the slave if you want," I told the two lawyers as
the dessert of small wine cakes was being served. "Menocles appreciates
the handling, especially if you would like some nice fresh slave cream
topping your cake," I stated as I encircled the chef's huge organ and began
to stroke it to a full erection. "I don't take cream with my cake, but a
lot of my guests do and Menocles here is always eager to accommodate them,"
as some pre-cum appeared on the chef's fully erect thick uncircumcised 10"
shaft.
To my surprise, both lawyers took me up on my invitation and Menocles
had his balls fully drained before they had had their fill of the delicate
wine cakes.
"Menocles always fixes a delicious meal," I noted as Menocles, now at
least partially flaccid, cleared the dishes away swiftly with a big smile
on his face from his master's compliment.
"I can see why you and Lucius were such good friends," the up-to-now
silent lawyer spoke. "You both seem to have an eye for the very best the
markets have to offer," he commented viewing the firm undulating ass of the
chef just leaving the room. "May I suggest you review Lucius's estate
slaves before we send them to auction. There may be some properties there
you, as an obvious connoisseur of slave flesh, would want to buy yourself
before we dispose of them. Some of them, if I may be so bold, rival even
your magnificent chef in their appearance, although I doubt if they quite
match the boy you so generously shared with us before dinner. That, noble
Optimus, is a rare find indeed. I can see why you wouldn't entertain for a
moment the idea of him being sent to market, no matter the small fortune he
would undoubtedly bring there."
"Remember, Lucius found the boy for me," I said, "so I imagine some of
his other slaves around his estate might be interesting too. Yes, let me
look them over before you ship them out, if it's no trouble."
"No trouble at all, noble Optimus. When would such a viewing be
convenient for you?"
"Now," I answered much to their surprise. "I've got some free time
right now and it sounds like fun."
The two lawyers looked at each other, totally unprepared their
invitation would be acted upon so quickly. Nevertheless, they both nodded
in the affirmative, obviously unwilling to irritate me this early in the
estate settlement, especially when their fees depended in large part on my
satisfaction with their services.
Within a half hour, we were over at Lucius' estate and the 15
properties were lined up. Lucius' current pleasure slave, as spectacular
as his previous ones, who I had fucked thoroughly many a time over the past
few months, gave me a genuine smile of recognition, happy to see someone he
knew in the confusion of his master's untimely death.
Pointing to the one slave I was familiar with, I instructed the
lawyers to make sure he was transferred to my ownership immediately. The
pleasure slave fell to my feet kissing them among his tears.
"Thank you, master, thank you," he openly wept in happiness. "I
didn't want to get sold again at market, master," he blurted out before
catching himself, knowing he had spoken out without his owner's permission,
a crime for any slave. "Sorry, master," he apologized as he silenced
himself and again assumed the proper slave display position in front of me
with his eyes to the ground in total submission to his new master.
"Another outburst like that, slave, and I will make sure you're sold
off," I admonished the slave, "and to a some old hag who's probably so
desperate she'll fuck you to death in three months or some old fat man
whose only interested in parading you around town by that big dick of yours
without ever letting you get off," I laughed. "I know Lucius used you
pretty heavily and I intend to do the same but, like your former master, at
least I'll let you unload now and then if you serve me well."
"Yes, master. Thank you, master," the slave responded, his tone
reflecting both his sincerity and gratefulness for now having such a caring
master. His tall neck collar forced his head into an upright position so
his face could be viewed at all times, but his eyes remained rooted to my
feet in front of him out of total respect and as a symbol of complete
submission to his new owner.
The remaining 14 slaves were, as the lawyers had suggested, rather
spectacular themselves. They were anything but the ordinary draft slaves
one would expect for the type of work they did. All were between 17 and 24
years of age, all were very well hung, all had very muscular bodies without
an ounce of fat on them, all had been shaved so there wasn't a hair on
their body below their eyes, and all had been genitally banded
exceptionally thickly so their large organs were very prominently displayed
at all times. All had been fitted with the tall neck collars that forced
their heads into chronic upright positions which Lucius always favored with
his good looking slaves. None had tit, nose, or ear rings in that
maintenance slaves seldom did since such adornments might get caught in the
tools they worked with. Outside of those commonalities, they varied in
height from 5'3" to 6'6", had physiques ranging from lithe swimmer types to
the muscle bound weight lifter types, were of every known hair and eye
color, and were white, brown, black, and yellow in skin
complexions. Everything from the gene pools of the Germans from the far
north to the Jews to the Mongol Slavs was represented, along with some
sandy haired Gauls, the expensive Dacians, and even an exotic Persian.
About half had been born into slavery; the other half were captives but
with training so complete it was hard to tell the difference. From their
demeanor, it was obvious all now totally accepted their slavery and knew
they were slaves for life with the sole duty of pleasing whoever owned
them. Some questioning of the displayed stock quickly ascertained that all
had received special training in their sexual duties as part of their
training regimen, all had been used by one master or another in that
capacity since they had either been captured or come of age, and all
expected nothing else from any new master. Within 10 minutes of inspecting
them, it was obvious Lucius had acquired a literal harem of well-trained
slave boys for his own diversion as well as to kept the place trim and
tidy. Displayed in any setting, the collection would enhance any owner and
certainly establish his expertise in picking out the best in male meat
available in the Empire's markets nowadays.
"I'll take these other 14 too," I instructed the lawyers. "It will
just save you the trouble of auctioning them off. Ship the ownership
papers and the stock over to my estate this afternoon. Might as well put
them to work right away rather them eating the estate's assets up sitting
around in holding cages here. My steward will assign them their chores and
their cages in my slave quarters after you turn them over to him. But have
him bring their papers up to my office so I can get them filed away. I
assume you'll have the transfers notarized and recorded properly?"
"Of course, noble Optimus. We'll handle all those details promptly.
Do you want your new properties partially clothed for the transfer or will
it be alright if we ship them over in the slave transport cart exactly as
Lucius kept them here? "
"Lucius always kept his slaves naked since they seldom left his
estate. It will be the same at my place - I'm like Lucius. I enjoy
looking at them."
"Who wouldn't," one of the lawyers smiled. "It would be a crime to
cover them up in any way."
"I doubt if these slaves, with the bodies they've got, have had a
stitch on for years now. Am I right, boys?" he boldly addressed the slaves
directly.
"Yes, master," the slaves all broke into smiles and answered
simultaneously. Indeed, most of the slaves thought, it was difficult to
remember when they last weren't totally naked if you didn't count their
collars and thick genital rings. The bred slaves among them had indeed
never had clothes on in their life and the captured slaves had certainly
never had them on since first captured. Now all of them thought of their
slave collars and genital bands as "clothing" that distinguished them from
non-slaves over and above their distinctive chronic nakedness.
By late that afternoon, I had fifteen more slaves at my disposal -
another legacy of Lucius. As my original gift from Lucius, now actually
owned by me legally, swallowed my entire length until my organ was suckled
by his throat muscles as I idly played with his swollen erect tits, I
reflected on how much my life had changed since I had first met my good
friend Lucius. Too bad he had met such an untimely death. Strangely, I
felt cheated out of the Syrian slave he had taken with him in his death.
Knowing Lucius, I bet he was really something if he had traveled 50 miles
out of his way to buy him. But then my back arched, my breath temporarily
halted, and I shot a full and very satisfying load deep down my slave's
throat directly into his stomach.
THREE MONTHS LATER:
Those two estate lawyers wanted one percent of my inheritance as their
fees. I don't know about the charities that were getting the other half,
but I thought it was outrageous and refused to pay since Lucius's estate
was sizable. I remembered how enamored they were with my handsome Greek
chef who had so graciously topped their wine cakes with his man-cream that
afternoon several months earlier and offered ownership of him in lieu of
their usual fees. Since I cleverly had the good looking slave right there
in front of us sporting a huge erection while he was serving his famous
wine cakes to my guests when I made the offer, they accepted my offer
immediately and before I could find his papers to sign them over to the two
lawyers, they had both milked him once again and were savoring the slave's
cream atop their wine cakes as I rejoined them with the signed papers.
I wondered when was the last time they had accepted a milk stud in
lieu of cash payment. But I knew my former chef was going to have his
balls drained very regularly from now on, especially now that he had two
masters to satisfy with his output, not just one. Besides, I was never
into milking studs much so his only use in that area up to now was in
pleasing my guests or showing him off for my friends. I knew from my
breeding studs that regular draining of a slave's balls usually increases
their production, so I was sure he would satisfy his two new masters given
time. I had saved a lot of money by this trade compared to the fees they
had in mind, but I didn't feel guilty about cheating the attorneys - the
slave was a darn good chef and I would miss his talents in that area. I
had the feeling the two lawyers could care less whether he could cook or
not as long as he could steadfastly produce the sauce they liked so well.
******
PRESTIGE COMES WITH AGE:
TWELVE YEARS LATER:
After inheriting a sizeable hunk of my friend Lucius's estate and the
escalating profits from my slave breeding operation which had been around
long enough to see the crops annually reaching market age, I was now a very
wealthy man.
Lucius, in his infinite wisdom, had been right years ago about the
future profitability of a well run, selective slave breeding business that
regularly produced predictable, high quality products that rivaled anything
available anywhere. The 'Optimus' products, as they were referred to after
my family name, consistently brought top market prices and they were indeed
premium goods: about as well built as men got, almost indestructible in
their disease-resistance and sturdiness, consistently strikingly good
looking, and always very well hung with the sex organs well displayed since
their bodies were always shaved totally smooth, their pricks were always
circumcised, and all were fitted with thick genital bands. Furthermore,
they were always eager to be used as indicated by their usual semi-erect
dripping organs, always well trained as their subservient demeanor
indicated in just a moment's observation, and totally accepting of their
slave status. No purchaser ever had to worry about even a hint of
rebellion or resistance to anything asked of the products. The Optimus
products were available in a variety of hues ranging from jet black to
well-tanned blonds, and in sizes varying from small compact bodies that
would fit into any bed to literal giants that could cover even the biggest
broods of a rutting shed. Every owner preference could be accommodated
among the multitude of bodies offered for sale each and every day -
everything from a well-muscled but still delicate fresh-looking boy for an
owner's bed to the huge, super-masculine studs in constant arousal that
would be purchased to sire the next generation of slaves for the markets.
A separate branch of Optimus Industries offered female stock produced
at the breeding farms. Most were bought, albeit at much reduced prices
compared to the males, for assembly and manufacturing assignments, domestic
duties, cleaning services, staffing the brothels catering to heterosexuals
and lesbians, and, of course, the best among them as brood mares who were
regularly mated with the highly selected studs to produce the never-ending
crops of replacement slaves.
Not only was I busy running my various enterprises to steadily
increase profits, managing my financial funds to give a maximum yield, and
serving as a valued advisor to both corporate businesses as well as the
Imperial administration, but I was also frequently asked to give slave
breeding and management lectures at numerous schools and corporate seminars
in addition to serving as a contributing editor to two popular journals:
SLAVE BREEDING and EFFECTIVE SLAVE MANAGEMENT. I had even, most recently,
received the Emperor's highest award: the "Diocletion Award" for my slave
breeding innovations, specifically in developing a practical scheme whereas
predictable strains of slaves best suited for particular work assignments
would eventually evolve as a result of highly selective and carefully
controlled slave breeding.
In others words, I was not only rich - I was famous or at least fast
becoming so. It was hard to adjust to all the responsibilities and time
demands fame placed on a person, but I set firm limits on my time, became
immune to flattery and public acclaim, and deliberately made sure my
personal life style was unaffected by all this. My main goal was, as
always, similar to my late friend Lucius's - enjoying life to the fullest,
especially within the context of what owning others of the same species
(more or less) could afford.
This meant I kept a whole stable of always ready and totally willing
male slaves at my home - these were the very best of my own products and/or
the best the markets had to offer all over the known world, regardless of
cost. They were, without boasting, the best looking, well built, best
equipped, best trained, best motivated, and the sexiest boys ever gathered
in one place. Outside of skin color, they varied little from what I liked
best in slaves: muscular well-built physiques featuring huge pectorals,
rounded tight butts, tight abs, and colossal always ready equipment. All
were exceptionally handsome to my eye, and, catering to my own preferences,
they ranged from cream colored to a shiny jet black in skin hue. Most
important was their training: their overriding goal was to bring me
pleasure with their bodies, no matter what was wanted, immediately and with
grace. It didn't matter to me what their natural sexual preference was or
whether they resented doing the acts asked for or not - they were judged on
how well they met the demands, not what they "thought" about doing them one
way or the other. Therefore, I didn't have a bunch of very effeminate
slaves around, yet alone those dressing or trying to act as female whores -
I had real men doing what men did best to please another man. The fact they
had no choice in the matter was incidental in that they were owned
properties there to serve their master's needs, whatever they might be.
All the slaves in my stable understood they were slaves first and foremost
with no thoughts or feelings of their own that mattered other than how I
evaluated them in performance of their duties.
No matter how hard they tried to hide it, it was obvious the majority
of my stable slaves were naturally heterosexual given the choice, at least
when I first acquired them. But they knew they didn't have a choice and
adjusted accordingly to both their advantage and mine. After intensive
training and a year or two of hard service, I would defy anyone to tell the
naturally heterosexual from the naturally homosexual slaves. It was
irrelevant unless they got sold off to a mistress for a change of pace, but
again, adjustment to reality and their superb training would overcome any
natural inclinations one way or the other.
My stable were all "dressed" alike: totally nude, totally body shaved
or with their body hair plucked out below the eyes, hair at least ear
length with some shoulder length, "tall" collared so their faces were
always visible since they were forced to hold their heads upright at all
times, tits ringed with moderate sized rings which made them erect and
irritated them to eventually grow to two to three times their normal size
over time, genitally ringed with thick bands which insured a full prominent
display or their organs at all times, all trimmed (circumcised) so nothing
was ever hidden from their master or mistress, small rings through their
nose septums so I could leash them by their noses or hook them to a fucking
bench easily, and most with one large ear ring in their left ear to offset
the prominent ownership brand I had burnt into their right pectoral and
left butt check. Many were fitted with leather butt plugs when they
weren't being cleaned out or getting fucked so that they typically walked
with a little twist I found provocative. All were well fed and treated when
sick although this was seldom enough. I ordered them to polish their teeth
every day with a twig to retain the beautiful teeth I required when I
purchased them and cleanliness of their bodies at all times was mandatory
along with immediate attention to any skin blemishes whatsoever. In other
words, I spared no expenses on furnishing and maintaining them once I
bought them. For what they cost to start with, it would be foolish not to.
My 'stable' was my personal pride and joy and told me, more than anything
else, I had made a success of my life. Each time I went up one of my
slave's butts or thrust down their throats, I truly felt like a master -
the feeling only obtained when you own the very best of your own species to
do exactly as you desire, whether it's taking it up the butt, sucking you
off, weeding your garden, emptying your chamber pot, cooking your food,
making your bed, drinking your piss, or whatever turns you on. I used my
'stable' at least once a day and often more than that. Why not? They were
mine and there for my enjoyment.
I had published two articles recently in the popular journals I
mentioned. One lengthy one in SLAVE BREEDING outlined precisely the
procedures necessary to produce a "designer" slave line specifically bred
to perform certain tasks better than others. It got heavily into the
genetic contributions of the particular male stud and the specific female
brood selected for breeding, the effects of the breeders' age, the time of
breeding, the prenatal environment of the brood mare, the effects of diet
and herbs, the immediate post-birth environment, and the early specific
training necessary for a successful final product. Of course, the heaviest
emphasis was on the genetics of the male and female breeding stock and how
these could be estimated prior to a subsequent pregnancy. In that article
I predicted that ultimately slave breeders would have three distinct
"strains" of slaves available: heavy-duty but relatively stupid draft
slaves best suited for most manual work; a more intelligent and slightly
less muscular slave who required less food but who had great endurance for
factory and small construction tasks demanded in great numbers by most
corporations nowadays, and an extraordinarily handsome/beautiful slave with
exaggerated sexual characteristics and drive best suited for domestic and
leisure purposes as well as just for show who would be bright enough to
intuit their owner's desires without too much prompting but certainly not
bright enough to become philosophical or introspective, let alone reflect
on their inherent inferior status as owned properties.
The shorter invited article in EFFECTIVE SLAVE MANAGEMENT mainly
focused on exerting an owner's control of his property at all times. Thus
there were recommendations for short rationing, types of food allowed, when
to feed and water, the most effective disciplines within various types of
slaves, e.g., use of the bullwhip and hot irons on draft slaves where
permanent scarring isn't important; use of humiliation, shame, and
embarrassment with the domestic slave; the balance between chronic hunger
and quick response to a master's commands, the advantages of cutting vocal
chords for certain types of slaves vs. the usual voice training; and the
effective use of sexual rewards for slaves where all sexual outlet, when
and where and how, is decided by the owner. Basic stuff, actually, but it
never hurts to reiterate the obvious when it comes to slaves I argued. I
also argued that while all slaves generally go naked when the weather is
warm to save clothing costs, in colder climes the embarrassment of going
naked when others are clothed can be maintained by fitting them with warm
clothing that is at the same time humiliating - skin-tight clothes that
emphasize their sexual organs; clothes that only slaves wear and are
starkly different than free men's clothes; and the use of heavy nose rings
to assure a "slave look" regardless of what clothes they may have on to
keep them from freezing to death. The article also addressed the proper
use of women slaves in their dual role: as workers and as host bodies for
the next generation of slaves.
I argued forcefully that women made excellent factory workers because
repetitive tasks didn't wear them down as much as seemed to happen with
easily bored men slaves and were actually better at fine detail work,
especially in the making of jewelry and clothing. On both types of work
assignments, women could be bred in a single afternoon and then chained
back to their work post the very next day until at least two to three weeks
before a scheduled delivery. Post- delivery, they could be back, chained
to a familiar spot, within a week or two and bred again often after just a
few months time.
Male slaves, on the other hand, were not allowed to bred (with the
exception of the highly selected studs who did nothing else), but their
greater strength was best utilized in heavy assembly work and draft labor.
Sexual release, under the direct control of their supervisor, and food and
water intake, were the absolutely best motivators for male stock although I
admitted that the whip, the hot irons, and the huge disciplinary dildos
found wherever you found slaves had their place in effective slave
management.
I used as an example a factory making slave transport carts where I
had served as consultant. Female slaves did almost all of the assembly of
wheels and yokes and were usually chained to their work station where it
was easy to discipline them if necessary with the usual scourges and rods.
But I argued that threatening isolation from their fellow workers proved
almost as effective as a good whip and was totally harmless to the growing
pup within most female slaves who were profitably kept pregnant as much as
possible in their dual role as worker and producer of slave pups. Food and
water deprivation for female slaves was counterproductive when they were
simultaneously being bred in that it would affect the precious new slave
fetus within them. Women slaves were social animals, I argued, and social
rewards and punishments were by far the most effective and didn't threaten
their potential as broods.
In contrast, big dildos, jammed well up a male slave's rear hole, were
extremely effective in motivating and disciplining male workers. The dildo
allowed the slave full mobility in his work space, gave the slave a
constant feeling of being controlled in that he had the sensation of being
fucked by a master's huge penis whenever he moved, and, dependent on their
size, could be used for corrective punishment as well a motivational
device. These large disciplinary dildos were huge - usually a good 10x6" so
slaves fitted with them walked bull-legged at all times and squirmed
uncomfortably at their work stations.. Male slaves never seem to totally
adjust to these types of dildos. They groaned as they were installed each
morning before work, they groaned as they were removed for cleansing before
scheduled for sleep, and they groaned as they had to torturously walk with
the dildos embedded in them,. In addition to rigid control of sexual
outlets (which was the most effective reward outside of food and water), I
strongly recommended all male slaves be fitted with dildos despite their
cost - they were well worth it in the long run and, I argued, usually paid
for themselves in increased productivity and total compliant behavior
within just a few weeks. When training newly captured or sentenced slaves,
the huge disciplinary dildos had shortened total training time a good two
months after they were almost universally adopted in the training centers.
Of course there, I pointed out, the only time they were removed was when a
slave was either receiving his series of flushings or being fucked by one
of the trainers. As everyone reading the article already knew, slaves in
training rarely experienced not having something stretching their hole.
Both articles were well received and led to numerous speaking
engagements where I could elaborate on the various points of the articles
as well as answer specific questions. One of the most requested of these
talks (and the one for which I received the highest speaking fees) was
entitled: "When The Time Has Come: Replacement Costs vs. Maintenance." It
tackled head on the question any slaveholder must face eventually - when
does the cost of a replacement slave offset the lower productivity and
higher medical costs of the aging slave? With slave prices steadily
decreasing due to the increased output from the breeding farms, the wisdom
of keeping slaves past their prime around no longer made sense. I argued
four main points: (1) the older slave was often less productive, no matter
how much you tore their hides to shreds trying to motivate them, and even
that took up a lot of the slave handler's time and effort; (2) the medical
costs involved in "fixing up" slaves often wasn't worth it - slaves
suffering maladies and diseases were sometimes given expensive but often
ineffectual treatments that cost more than a good replacement slave and you
still ended up with next to nothing; (3) slaves' market value depreciates
steadily with age so it often makes sense to get rid of them when they
still bring at least sometime at the auction block; and (4) old slaves can
still add to your profits - slaves terminated before disease makes their
bodies worthless are now the main source of animal feed and fertilizer and
salvage values are steadily increasing in this area. After I had the
audience convinced it was time to re-evaluate their slave holdings with an
eye to replacing those hurting the profit line, I offered a detailed scheme
I had derived over the years to help make the final determination for each
slave in a given owner's inventory. The equation included the purchase
price of the slave, the slave's age, any diagnosed or suspected diseases,
their gender, their main type of work (within broad categories), their food
intake, and, for bred slaves, the longevity of their specific stud and
brood mare. For captured or sentenced slaves, the scheme included age of
enslavement, and the length of training required before the slave was
tractable and totally cooperative. The equation I promoted also had you
plug in the current auction price of an potential replacement slave. With
a few minutes of rather simple calculation, any owner could quickly figure
out the cost advantage of replacement or retention.
Once this scheme was widely utilized, there was considerable more
turnover in slave herds and, overall, productivity went up while
maintenance costs went down. A nice side effect of wide use of this new
decision-making tool was that the cost of animal feed and fertilizer took a
dramatic drop. The feed specifically sold for slaves also suspiciously
dropped in price over this same time which everyone appreciated but no one
ever openly discussed. Slaves were one thing, but it was common knowledge
the Imperial inspectors in Rome had recently uncovered some "adulterated"
sausage sold on the streets of Rome itself. Some rumors had it the pork had
been laced with some meat bought from some derelict slave dealers cleaning
out their own pens, but others claimed the sausage makers were mixing in
dead horse meat purchased from the Legions.
The Emperor Diocletion's Award, primarily a result of this
decision-making tool that was adapted by almost all large slaveholders
throughout the Empire, was the capstone of my career. It was presented at
the Imperial Palace by the Emperor himself, was widely conveyed through the
Empire by the Emperor's own agents, and certainly enhanced the value of
Optimus Industries products by a good 10% price increase almost
immediately. After the Emperor's Award, I was swamped with all sorts of
bids for my services where I could get into the details of slave breeding
in a direct way.
The only offer I didn't decline was to have published a short
illustrated manual on effective slave breeding. In that I went through all
the usual time-tested procedures, but livened it up with actual sketches of
selecting both male and female breeders, showing the actual breeding
process so readers could visualize the best positions for maximum "hit
rates," and details on how to cycle both the male studs and female broods
to maximize successful impregnations. I used my old breeding stock as
models for the artists illustrating this manual, including my own standbys
- the original white stud and the helmeted black stud I had purchased
later. Both were now well into their late thirties but still going strong
and still looked like the amazing studs they were. It amazed even me how
well they had held up both in retaining their youthful looks as well as
their ability to always get a full erection and promptly deliver a full
load of fertile fresh sperm four times a day seven days a week without
fail.
By now, of course, their offspring was well over 10,000 each utilizing
thousands and thousands of different broods, each brood on their hands and
knees underneath the studs with their legs spread wide as the giant organs
entered them and thrust away. I pointed out in my illustrated manual how
the studs seldom saw the faces of those they were covering and consequently
were unaware of whether they had covered that brood in some previous mating
or not. It was made clear neither the broods or the studs ever saw their
offspring. The slave pup was removed from the blindfolded brood
immediately upon delivery and placed in a slave nursery where a rotating
series of wet-nurse slaves actually fed and raised them through the first
two years - a different one each day generally so no attachments were ever
formed. . The manual even gave a glimpse of how the slaves were raised in
spartan group homes without names or clothing outside of their slave
collars where emphasis was placed at the earliest age on pleasing a future
owner if they were lucky enough to get sold. The manual made clear that to
the slave pup, the greatest peril in his life would be NOT finding an owner
and simply being harvested as the group home wrote off its loss. The manual
emphasized the importance of good record keeping throughout the entire
process - from impregnation to final sale in that every buyer of the final
product was entitled to a full provenance of each bred slave they bought.
The manual was a sensation when it was released by the booksellers and
made me even richer. But all other offers I declined. My life was totally
satisfactory as it was and I felt I was doing all I wanted to as it was.
To do more would mean less time at the breeding operations making sure all
was being done exactly as it was supposed to be done and by the right
slaves at the rutting benches exactly as scheduled. It would mean less
time spent with my 'stable' where I found my leisure taking on whole new
heights of enjoyment.
My original gift slave that I had named "Slave," was still as good
looking and sexy as ever thanks to a rigid forced exercise regime and a
very controlled diet of only high-protein, high fat, slave food. That led
to maintenance of a trim muscular body, a nice shiny black hide, and high
sexual interest as evidenced by an almost constant, dripping erection even
after all these years. My original white stud was still pounding away at
the rutting benches day after day, year after year and his "hit rate"
remained as high as ever. He never complained at having to rut four times
a day, seven days a week with a succession of women where he never even saw
their face, he never seemed anything but pleased when I called him to my
own bed on many a occasion where he was the one being fucked for a change
whether it was up his ass or down his throat, he never seemed to get bored
with the "sport" of fucking as he called it, he never minded being observed
studding in front of various audiences I would arrange, and he always
seemed interested in maintaining his very high hit rate, always inquiring,
when allowed to ask a question, as to how many he had "knocked up" since
the last time he asked.
The same was true with my only slightly younger always helmeted black
stud, the second one I had purchased with Lucius's advice. But the black
stud did occasionally inquire as to how many male pups he was producing
relative to female pups (he seemed to take pride mainly in how many male
pups he was producing), and, years later, he seemed interested in how much
his progeny was selling for at auction. It was obvious he wanted to produce
pups that brought his owner top money each and every time and took a
personal pride in it.
Of course, as the business expanded, I had added whole cadres of new
studs over the years, each as spectacular as the original ones, but some
variation in the color of their hides and eye colors. The new studs
modeled themselves after the old hands in this area, and unrelentingly
almost strutted to the rutting benches with the sole intent of making
another slave pup for their master's profit.
Not once did any stud ever voice a concern that he was producing
thousands of new slaves just like himself under the total control of
whoever had the money to pay for him. Broods did occasionally if you let
them gab with each other very long and breeders always had to keep an eye
on the broods to prevent a few of them from aborting their babies or
sometimes, if not restrained properly, from strangling them with their bare
hands when they had just birthed them.
Seems like a few of them didn't want to produce slaves just like
themselves who eventually would be bred like themselves to produce even
more slaves, etc. But then, women can get sentimental if you let them and
don't keep them busy enough to keep their noses out of their master's
business. Men slaves rarely wandered off into issues outside of their
immediate needs and making their life more comfortable by pleasing their
master. Some women slaves got beyond themselves occasionally - what I
called "philosophical" - a condition that should always be well within the
master or mistress' province only. Only an owner had the "big picture,"
i.e., the information necessary to make appropriate judgments. Slaves had
neither the information, the decision-making experience, or the long-range
perspective an owner had. Every owner I ran into had experienced a few
women slaves who thought, ridiculously, they could butt into this area. I
recommended such women be transferred to close confinement in the mines
where survival concerns outweighed everything else in their life. That
usually brought an end to such nonsense and after just a few months there,
any talk about what happened to the products of their body ceased once and
for all. After all, their bodies belonged to the owner so they had no
right to say anything about what their bodies produced. That too, of
course, belonged to their master or mistress.
Other than the occasional lecture (which I limited more and more as I
got older), my life was exactly where I wanted it. I had discovered, with
my late friend Lucius's help and advice, exactly how to build a huge
fortune without excessive effort. I had done that with great alacrity and
was now reaping the fruits of my success. Amazing wealth was just a matter
of mastering the basic fundamentals and then religiously sticking with
them.
Lucius had told me years and years ago the money was in slaves and the
greatest profits could be made in breeding them for market. How right he
was. My only regret is he isn't with me now to enjoy my success. I knew
up in the afterlife he was fucking that Syrian slave he took with him in
that horrible ship wreck or perhaps something even better by now. But
still, I wished he could enjoy my stable - at lot of the slaves in it were
just his type!
THE END